


This Is Something That Happens

by orchis



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:40:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 62,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchis/pseuds/orchis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU, magical realism. Merlin and Arthur would like to think that the line between reality and dreams has always been clear for them--for Arthur, real life is his job, his family, and Leon; for Merlin, it's the hospital and his friends. And dreams? Well, there's nothing strange in dreaming about the same person again and again. There's nothing wrong with a little fantasy, or with your subconscious creating a perfect man for you when things are a bit down in real life. Except, of course, if you happen to meet him when you're awake. A story about family, friendship, and a love that transcends the limits of reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Something That Happens

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is finished. It took me ages to get this done, and I could've never, ever done it without the help and support of a bunch of amazing and lovely people. First, I'd like to thank my beta reader Rachael aka blissbubbles, for being so patient, encouraging and dedicated. I'm technically a stand-alone writer, but she did some art for my fic, which was truly elating! Thank you, Rachel. All the art is hers. I'd also like to thank Manu (the little brother I never knew I always wanted :3), Sam, Jamie, Becca, Bogi Stephanie, Ellie, Tera, Lina and everyone to whom talked about this fic and who encouraged me to write it. You guys are the best. And last but not least, many thanks to the_muppet for putting together yet another successful Paper Legends challenge and allowing me to be part of it. And by the way, the title is a borrowed line from the film "Magnolia".

 

They both remembered the date, because it was the day they had first kissed. May 1st, many years ago. It had been a particularly warm spring, and they were resting under a big tree, cooling off after a short footie match, a one on one. The question had been hanging between them for a while now, about how things were the same but somehow different. They were friends, and that was alright. But there was something else there, something that could change their lives for better.

Tonight, Arthur felt the same as that day. The feeling that things were alright, but could be better. An odd longing in his chest. They had broken up and gotten back together so many times that neither of them was sure of which day they could celebrate their anniversary, but Leon said he was planning something special, and told Arthur to save him a space in his schedule for it.

He knew Leon wouldn't have gone through all these just to “celebrate their anniversary” but... He dared not think further ahead. His mind was cloudy with expectations and doubts, all the slightly weird things Leon had been doing as of lately and that had caught Arthur's attention. (Well, Morgana's attention first, and then Arthur's, but that was natural, considering his sister spend more time with his boyfriend than Arthur himself.)

They went to their favourite Indian cuisine restaurant – fancy, expensive. They were talking about everything and anything, like they would do at home – the gas bill that none of them ever remembered to pay, because they always thought it was the other's turn, the new advertising campaign, or anything exciting Arthur had came across at work.

Then, as they were finishing their food, Leon wrapped up the chat about his day quickly, and changed the topic.

“You know...” he said to Arthur with a small smile. In the restaurant’s light, his hair and beard looked slightly darker, and his eyes were bright and even more striking than usual. He looked dapper, and Arthur felt like a sixteen year old again, his heart full of expectations and hopes and a big scary life ahead of him – a big scary life, he’d wished back then, he could share with Leon until it was over.

“I know?” asked Arthur, because Leon had said nothing.

Leon chuckled, left his knife and fork on his plate, wiped his mouth with the napkin. His face was slightly flushed, probably because of whatever spicy thing he was eating. Leon was fond of spicy stuff. Arthur remembered their trip to Mexico. Leon had eaten everything – stuff with hot chilli peppers sauce like it was ketchup – and Arthur had spent half of their stay with diarrhoea.

“I had a speech prepared and everything,” Leon said.

Arthur's eyes widened; Leon just continued talking.

“But I've forgotten most of it, and now I think it'd be ridiculous...” said Leon. He looked slightly embarrassed, nervous. “So I guess I'll cut to the chase and, um. Do you think – no. I've been thinking. We could get married. If you want to, that is. If you want to... marry... me...”

Arthur knew he was beaming like an idiot. He hummed, shrugged, concentrated on his food.

“Arthur?”

He looked up at him.

“Of course I do,” he answered. “I figured you’d guessed that by now.”

Leon laughed, delighted, happy, and Arthur felt it too, like bubbles in his chest, a little bit like being drunk on joy.

“I do,” he insisted.

“Good,” said Leon. “It would suck to return these...”

He took out a small box from the inner pocket of his suit, and opened it. It contained two identical engagement rings – white gold, with a delicate design in what Arthur could guess were diamonds. The only difference between them was the size, one was slightly smaller. That was probably for Arthur's. Leon had thicker fingers.

Arthur stared at them, suddenly at a loss of words. Leon's hands were hovering over the rings nervously. Arthur reached out, picked Leon's ring from the box, grabbed Leon's hand and slipped the ring into his finger.

“There,” he said with a soft smile, looking at Leon's eyes. “Now it's your turn.”

Leon beamed, and did the same as Arthur, except he held onto his hand, and kissed his knuckles, kissed the ring, brought him closer, and Arthur knew his tie was probably going to dip into the dishes and get dirty, and people were staring, but he didn't care. He was kissing Leon like the first time. With an open heart, full of expectations and the honest conviction that he'd be the first and last person he'd ever kiss.

*

Merlin had to take a train and a bus to get home.

His father had offered to go pick him up to the train station in Essetir, but Merlin had refused. Now that he was pressed against the window, his legs in an awkward angle because they never quite fit in just any bus, he regretted it.

He felt a bit guilty for not having come home in over a year. To be fair, this wasn’t really his home anymore, but he knew his parents missed him, and had been sad to spend Christmas without him. Merlin missed them too, but at that time he’d had other things in his mind. Travelling always bored him. He got dizzy if he tried to read, and there was only so much music you could listen to before getting bored.

He let out a sigh, and fished out his mobile from his pocket. He still had an hour to kill. Ealdor was so small that it didn't even have its own train station. You had to travel two hours by bus or car to get to EssetirCity, and from there, you could take a train to Camelot or almost any other big city in the country.

He hadn't told Will yet that he was coming this week. He'd been busy. He hoped at least Will still kept the same number as he used to a couple of months before, when they last talked to each other. He had known Will since childhood, and ever since his friend had started to make enough money to afford it, Merlin hadn’t seen him keep a gadget for over half a year. He lost them, broke them, or succumbed to the temptation of a brand-new model every few months.

_Hey! I'm on my way Ealdor. I’ll be there until next Saturday. Wanna hang out?_

He sent it, and waited. The road went through a forest, it was summer, and the sun was shining through the tree leaves. Overall Merlin guessed the weather would be hot and nice. It made him want to go swimming to the very small, very badly maintained pool of the public sports centre.

The last time he had taken a dip, he'd been in the Caribbean, with Edwin. Somehow the thought of changing that for the boring pool of his hometown made him feel a bit morose.

His phone started to vibrate and rang. It was Will. Smiling, Merlin picked up the call.

“Hey, Will!” he said, a little too loud, and then remembered that he was in a bus. The only other occupants were two girls who were asleep, a few seats back, and a granny who was chatting with the driver. “It's Merlin,” he added, because Will wasn't saying anything. “Will?” he said, frowning. There was no noise on the other end of the line. Then Will hung up.

Merlin rolled his eyes. The idiot probably put the phone in his back pocket without blocking it or something.

He thought of taking a nap, but he wasn’t even that tired, just bored. He grabbed the book Lancelot had pushed into his hands just yesterday, when he went to leave his cat for him and Gwen to look after while he was away. It was one of Lancelot’s Latin American writers. Merlin wasn’t excited about it, but he literally had nothing else to do, and this part of the road didn’t have many curves or turns... Maybe this was why people bought dozens of gadgets. So they'd never had to be bored and alone with their thoughts in bus rides.

Last year, though, while making this same trip, he hadn’t been bored or alone. He’d had his arms wrapped around Edwin, making sweet conversation, telling him about the forests, trying to remember funny anecdotes that he hadn’t yet told him, and enjoying every occasion Edwin interrupted him to steal a kiss.

Edwin. It didn’t hurt as much as it used to, he was alright now. But they’d been together for over two years, and well. It was still a bit difficult. Sometimes he still missed him. Times like right now. A year ago, he’d come with him, because he’d been free too and because Hunith liked him, even if Balinor always eyed him with displeasure. They had snuggled in the bus, and Edwin was polite and kind and didn’t mind sleeping in the guest room rather than sharing Merlin’s bed, just to humour Merlin’s parents.

“It wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he thought, and he stopped the thought right there. There was no use in going back, in thinking that. They were done. And Merlin hadn't thought of him that often, not since they broke up in January. Really, it was all Gwen’s fault, this reminiscing thing. She’d mentioned him yesterday, when Merlin went to take Aithusa to them.

Merlin had been chatting with Lancelot for a while in the kitchenette, when they suddenly heard the front door opening.

“I'm home!” Gwen’s voice called out.

“Oh hi, love, we’re in the kit—” Lancelot began to say, a smile lighting up his face, but Gwen, from the foyer, didn't let him finish.

“You are not going to believe whom Edwin is dating now!” she said. A few seconds later, she was in front of them, and her face fell when she saw Merlin.

“Oh hi,” she said, and blushed. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here...” she trailed off, embarrassed.

Merlin had to laugh. He'd long ago started seeing Gwen's awkwardness as something funny.

“It’s fine, Gwen. Who is he dating?”

She and Lancelot exchanged a look, and Merlin turned away, to pick up Aithusa, his kitten, from the floor. He put her on his lap and caressed her, suddenly very sad to part ways with her.

“Um, you know Richard?”

“Is that the new nurse you’ve been talking about non-stop?” said Lancelot.

Gwen grinned.

“Yes, I told you I was sure he’s gay... Er, yeah him.”

Merlin shrugged.

“I don’t know him.”

“No, well, of course not...” said Gwen, blushing. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to... you know, open old wounds or anything.”

“I'm fine, Gwen,” he said. “We broke up six months ago. It’s perfectly normal.”

The question as to why Merlin wasn’t dating other people now that he'd oh so clearly moved on was left unsaid, and the atmosphere turned awkward.

“Well, I gotta go now,” said Merlin, standing up. He said his goodbyes to Aithusa, still feeling a bit dejected of leaving her behind.

“We’ll take good care of her,” said Lancelot, with the charming smile that had gained him Merlin's eternal love and friendship many years ago.

“Say hello to your parents from us,” added Gwen.

“Thank you,” said Merlin and waved the book Lancelot had pushed into his hands before Gwen arrived, when he mentioned he had nothing to read during his trip. “And thanks for the book.”

“I hope you enjoy it!” Lancelot said.

But Merlin had it opened in the first page, and had been staring at it, without reading, for a few minutes now. He let out a sigh and put it away.

Only half an hour before he got to Ealdor.

*

Balinor had taken the car, and drove with Hunith to the bus station. They were waiting for him to arrive, and it made him feel even guiltier for not having come home during Easter. Both Hunith and Balinor hugged him a bit longer than usual, and Merlin was engulfed in their familiar scent. Something like wood and homemade biscuits.

“How was the trip?” Hunith asked.

“Boring,” said Merlin, shrugging. “But tell me, how have things been here?”

That got Balinor and Hunith started in a long discussion of all the gossip Merlin had missed since the last time he'd called them properly, several weeks ago.

*

Will’s answer came when Merlin was already in his parents’ house, and settled.

_Who is this?_

_Merlin. Are you Will?_

_DUDE!!!! :D let’s meet tonight_

_8 pm at the dragon?_

_Great!!! I’LL SEE YOU THERE!!!! :D :D :D_

Merlin chuckled, and replied with another emoticon.

*

By the time Merlin got ready to meet Will, it was still raining cats and dogs. He grumpily took an umbrella and rushed, under the downpour, two blocks down his house to the pub where he and Will had gotten their first alcoholic drinks.

There really weren’t that many pubs in Ealdor, and one that was in almost the same walking distance from both their houses was pretty much the only one they visited. Things in Ealdor were like that – smaller, simpler, less adventurous than Camelot, the big city. But then again, what adventure was there in Merlin’s life? He was busy most of the time. Maybe Will’s life, in its apparent simplicity, could be much more interesting.

Inside, it was hot, but cosy. Merlin left the dripping umbrella by the door, next to a bunch of others that looked almost the same, and after rubbing his shoes a little on the welcome mat, he ventured further inside. There was a bunch of people Merlin knew, either from his childhood or whose faces he'd seen a thousand times, but no sign of Will.

Merlin checked his clock. He’d thought he was going to be late. It was in fact a little late, but Merlin shrugged it off, eased himself into a booth by the window, and waited for his friend to arrive.

A waitress, someone Merlin hadn’t seen before, approached him, but he said he was waiting for someone and she left with a nod and a polite smile. Will arrived ten minutes later. He was a bit wet and had a goofy, apologetic smile. Merlin hugged him like he was never going to do it again, and they sat down, both of them beaming like idiots, to catch up.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Sophia was at my place and I lost track of time.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to tell me that you just got laid?” he said. “Because that’s really inappropriate, Will! I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Will laughed, and didn’t look flustered at all.

“That’s not it, you creep. It’s just that—”

“Will!” the waitress materialised from out of nowhere, and she smiled at Will with interest.

“Oh...” he said. “Hi, Caitlin.”

Merlin smiled at the girl politely. He recognised the expression in Will’s face. It was strained and uncomfortable.

“I haven’t seen you around in ages! Where have you been?” she asked, leaning slightly towards Will.

“Just... around,” he said, shrugging, and threw a look at Merlin, the kind that Merlin recognised as a silent cry for help.

“Oh, well, you’ve been missed here!” she added. “Haven’t you missed us?”

“Uh...”

“Er,” says Merlin. “I’m sorry, Caitlin it is, right?” he said. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt but I’m starving.”

“Oh,” she said, giving him a cold look. “Of course. What would you like to order?”

“Double bacon cheeseburger,” Will and Merlin said at the same time, and they smiled at each other with complicity.

“Right... Anything to drink?” she asked, a bit rudely. “This is a pub, after all.”

They ordered a pint of beer, and the girl was gone, looking quite offended. Merlin felt a little guilty, but his guilt dissolved as soon as Will said, “Thanks, mate.”

“What's the deal with her?”

Will shrugged.

“She likes me.”

“I can see that.”

“Sophia doesn’t like her.”

“Obviously.”

“But nothing’s really ever happened between us. I mean, she’s flirted a bit, and I may have flirted back a little once or twice, but I swear to god, Merlin, that it was completely innocent,” he looked a bit mortified. “And well. She didn’t seem to take it like that, like just... innocent. Anyway, I haven’t been here since Sophia noticed... which was around November...”

“Seriously? Isn't that a bit too long?” said Merlin. “I mean... you love this place.”

Will shrugged again, and smiled, this time he looked dreamy and ridiculous.

“Anything for my girl.”

Merlin shook his head.

“You didn’t argue with her about coming here, did you? I mean, you could've just said something and we would’ve met somewhere else...”

Will shook his head.

“I wanted to come here, Merlin, this is our place!”

“Are you sure Sophia shouldn’t worry?”

Will snorted.

“She already knows her place,” Will said. “You come first.”

“Good,” said Merlin, grinning.

“By the way, I’ve got something to tell you...” said Will, and his smile is bright and ridiculous and infatuated again, but at that moment, the waitress came back with their drinks.

“Here you go,” she said, setting them on the table, giving Merlin another angry glare.

Merlin thanked her, and kept his polite smile.

They toasted to friendship, to being reunited once again, to good old memories (like that time Merlin got so drunk Will took him to his place to sober up, because his own dad was out and Hunith would probably kill them, but they ran into her anyway in the street, and oh boy had they been in trouble). And soon there were many more toasts and many more laughs.

But after several pints, the laughs grew thinner, and Merlin’s mood dropped a little bit.

“You don’t seem very happy,” said Will, looking at Merlin over the rim of his glass.

“I’m alright.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, grinning. “Look, I’m not going to pry, but you know you can talk to me about anything, alright? Anything. I’m your friend, and that’s never going to change, no matter what.”

Merlin looked at him, surprised.

“Why are you so serious, all of a sudden?”

Will shrugged.

“Give me some credit, alright? I hadn’t seen you in ages. Or the beer is making me sentimental.”

Merlin smiled at him, softly, but Will was looking at him with a worried expression now. Or at least, like Merlin was a broken car he needed to fix.

“Is everything alright with you?” Will asked again. Always straight to the point.

“Yeah, it’s all fine.”

“Alright.”

Will made a pause, as if he was considering whether prying or pushing Merlin would be of any use. Then, suddenly, he blurted out, “I wanted to tell you… I’m thinking of getting married.”

Merlin gasped.

“No way! Are you taking the piss?”

Will chuckled.

“No, Merlin. I think... We’re thinking of getting married, that is,” he said, smiling. He looked so absolutely infatuated, so sure, that Merlin’s mood improved instantly.

“So tell me about it.”

“Yeah. We’ve been talking about it. I don’t know. Maybe on December.”

Merlin frowned.

“Why on earth would you like to get married on December? It’s freezing!”

“Sophia and I both like winter,” said Will, smiling. “But maybe we’ll wait until spring.”

“So it’s official, then? I mean you don’t have a date, but... Did you propose already?”

“I didn’t ‘propose’, Merlin. We’re not in the 18th century. We both discussed and agreed to it, and yes, we’re getting married. We’ve enough money save for the party and a honeymoon, so we’re planning that as well...”

Merlin beamed at him.

“Those are great news, Will. Congratulations!”

“Thanks,” said Will.

They toasted again, several times, and smiled at each other like loons.

“So you’ll come to the wedding, right?” Will asked.

“Of course! Let me know the exact date, and I’ll be here.”

“Good. You should be a witness, then.”

“I’d be honoured to.”

“Thank you,” said Will.

Merlin shrugged.

“Hey, it’s nothing. And I’d be offended if you didn’t ask me.”

Will grinned.

“Well, I was considering asking your mum instead, since I wasn’t sure you’d come to my wedding, but...”

“Hey! How the hell would I miss your wedding?” Merlin said, glaring at him.

Will shrugged.

“You don’t visit as much as you used to,” he said.

Merlin nodded.

“Yeah, well... I’m busier now.”

“And you’ll only get busier and busier...” said Will. He suddenly seemed a little melancholic. “Remember when we used to be terrified of this? Of a life without vacations that lasted several weeks and having other things to do than homework?”

Merlin laughed.

“Will, if you mean adult life, let me remind you we left school about...”

“Don’t say it!” said Will, “It’s just that... now that I’m getting married it feels a lot more real. You went to uni and training and what not, but I stayed here... time was different for me.”

Merlin waited for him to go on.

“But still... I’m not terrified of this. I’m... sure, I think,” he said. “And happy. Weird, uh?”

Merlin just smiled at him and took another sip of his beer.

*

During the weekend, they stayed in. Arthur had thought they might go out for a drink to celebrate, but they were both exhausted after a difficult week at their respective jobs, and a weekend in front of the television, on the couch, sounded like the best idea.

Leon liked to cuddle. He was affectionate and sweet, and Arthur had never loved anyone this way, and he found himself often thinking, _maybe this is it_. Maybe it’d always been Leon, maybe things were meant to be like this.

Around noon, Leon went back to bed for a quick nap and Arthur felt the sofa was too big without Leon’s warmth. He looked around their flat, at the few pictures of them together, at the way they’d decorated, at their furniture, and the corners they’d built together.

He wondered if this was how you felt secure, established and stable. He went to the bedroom and lay down next to Leon. Leon woke up after a few minutes – he’d never been one to take long naps – and smiled at Arthur like he was the sun, and the moon, and the stars.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m starving. We should go out for lunch.”

“I’m not hungry,” Arthur said. “But let’s have lunch anyway.”

He wrapped his arms around Leon. They exchanged sweet kisses, and tender touches, and there was something about the way Leon reached out to him, about the way he made love to Arthur, like he was worshiping his body, that reassured him. This was the right choice. This was perfect.

*

Merlin is looking at the pouring rain through his bedroom window. He was supposed to be out there, in the forest, hiking with his mother, but the weather wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he’s sitting at his desk, all blurry pictures and fuzzy memories.

“Where are we?” asks Arthur.

Merlin turns around and smiles. He didn’t notice when Arthur appeared and neither did Arthur. It just happened. Arthur is sitting on Merlin’s bed, the one that’s got a beautifully carved headboard, with dragons and knights, castles, and princes and witches. Balinor made it for Merlin when he was a little kid, and made it big and strong enough to last him a lifetime. But naturally, Merlin couldn’t take it with him when he went away to study... And naturally, he doesn’t even remember that detail now.

“I don’t know,” Merlin answers.

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we?” asks Arthur. “I think it’s your room.”

“Or yours. Or no one’s,” says Merlin with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Now you’re here and I’m not bored anymore.”

Arthur grins.

“Why were you bored?”

“I want to go out, but I can’t, ‘cause it’s raining.” Merlin says, pointing with his thumb towards the window.

“Well, it’s not raining anymore,” says Arthur. Outside, the sun is shining bright, and it looks like a perfect day to go out and hike. Merlin hates hiking, but he likes being with his mother.

“Nevermind that,” says Merlin. “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Arthur shrugs.

“I can’t control it,” he says. “This is probably your dream, not mine.”

Merlin frowns.

“How do you know?”

“I was having a huge chocolate cake and suddenly I was in your bed.”

“And now you’re half naked.”

Arthur looks down. His shirt is off. He laughs, throwing his head back, and the light of the sun makes his hair and his skin glow.

“Definitely your dream, then,” he says.

“Well, let’s make the most of it while it lasts,” says Merlin, and suddenly he’s half naked too, and crawling onto Arthur’s lap.

He kisses Arthur, and it’s electrifying, but Arthur pulls away.

Merlin looks at him, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“What? Why? I broke up with my boyfriend, remember? Some time ago. I’m pretty sure I’m single,” Merlin tries to explain, briefly remembers a situation like this, but reverse, with him denying Arthur, denying this man he’s been dreaming about for so long.

“Yeah, but I’m not,” Arthur says. “I’m with someone.”

Merlin frowns.

“Is it serious?” he asks.

“Pretty much. We live together. We... I think we’re getting married.”

Merlin is once again sitting at his desk.

“Who is he?”

Arthur’s fully clothed, again. Behind Merlin’s back, through the window, Arthur can see the rain.

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t you remember his name?”

“I can’t even remember my own name,” Arthur says. “Let alone his. But... we’ve been together for long, that much I remember. And I love him.”

Merlin nods.

“Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy for you, then,” he says, and to both of them it sounds like a rehearsed line, something someone with a broken heart said a long time ago and that stayed in the collective subconscious to use in an awkward situation.

“Thanks,” Arthur says. “And really, I’m sorry. I mean. I want to. I always do. But...”

“No, there’s no need to explain,” Merlin shakes his head. “I get it. I was the same when I was with... with...” he frowns.

It frustrates him. It’s always like this. Vague memories, no names, zero details, their lives like shapes or shadows, like the draft of – he has a writer friend, doesn’t he?

“I have a writer friend,” he blurts out.

“Okay,” says Arthur. “Are you a writer too?”

“I don’t know.”

Arthur sighs.

“This is hopeless...” he says.

“Yeah, I think we agreed on that a long time ago,” Merlin says with a smirk. “But here we are. Asking each other questions, again.”

“Why don’t we go outside?” Arthur says.

“It’s raining,” Merlin says morosely.

“So what? None of us is going to catch a cold. We’ve never been out in the rain before,” Arthur says.

At least, he doesn’t remember one dream in which they were in the rain. Merlin makes a face.

“I hate getting soaked...”

“Well, this is your dream, it probably means you have to pee or something,” says Arthur. “And you said we should make the most of it while it lasts. Let’s just go outside.”

They’re in the foyer of the house and the door is open. There’s a beautiful garden, carefully cultivated by Merlin’s parents, but though it’s familiar, it holds no meaning to Merlin. Arthur barely looks at it. He’s out in the cobblestone road that leads from the fence to the door, walking backwards, smiling at Merlin.

“Come on, mystery boy,” he says.

Merlin comes out, but he’s complaining.

“A lightning bolt could kill us,” he says.

“And?” Arthur stretches out his arms, lets the rain fall on him like a cascade, refreshing. “We’d just wake up.”

As if on cue, it all shifts and fades into a different scenario. Merlin’s gone, and Arthur is in the city. He has the vague memory of rain, but he’s now in a crowded street, trapped in a traffic jam. People, like shadows, move and scream through the cars as if in an action film, when suddenly a velociraptor appears from behind a building, and Arthur forgets everything about rain and sunshine.

*

Merlin woke up with a start. It was still raining outside, a heavy storm. The old alarm clock on the bedside table marked just half past three in the morning. He’d sobered up now, after getting smashed with Will at the pub. He had to pee.

He went to the bathroom at the end of the corridor, and then downstairs for a glass of cold water, and then back to his room. He fell on the bed like a sack of potatoes, and quickly drifted into a dreamless sleep.

*

“I’m marrying Leon,” Arthur said to Morgana on Monday, over lunch.

Her eyes widened, comically, her spoon suspended between her bowl and her open mouth.

“You’re joking, right?”

Arthur frowned.

“No. We talked about it. Well, he proposed, and we’re getting married.”

She grinned, her spoon and her soup suddenly forgotten.

“Really?”

Arthur nodded, offered her a tight-lip smile, something tiny and restrained.

“Oh come on!” she said. “I can’t believe it!”

“Why not?”

 “Well, you know,” she said. “You guys have been going on and off for so long... I honestly didn’t think it’d last that long this time. But I’m very happy for you! Have you told anyone already?”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Arthur, ignoring the last bit of her question. She was the first one to know. “Why did you think it wouldn’t last?”

Morgana shook her head.

“It’s alright, Arthur. I mean... Like I said, you guys have been on and off for so long... I guess I just I thought it’d be over sooner or later, to be honest. But that’s just me not having faith in you,” she added, grinning. “I’m glad I was wrong. And it’s true, you guys have been quite serious for some time now, and you look the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

She smiled at him, and Arthur knew she was sincere. Morgana was good at faking, but he knew her well, and out of everyone in his family, she was the one who probably liked Leon the most.

“Thank you,” he said, this time without sarcasm, and feeling at ease again. “We’re thinking about March. We don’t really want to make a big wedding, but...” he shrugged. “We’re too busy to plan it on our own so fast.”

“I see,” said Morgana. “Well, let me know if I can help you with anything. I’d love to!”

*

Leon didn’t seem half as nervous as Arthur felt. He was resting the bottle of wine on his lap and holding it in his hand, looking absentmindedly out of the window. Arthur was driving like a madman. Or at least, he felt like screaming and honking at everyone and everything, including the red light. He refused from it, though. Leon didn’t like it when he devolved into a caveman in the car.

“Relax,” said Leon.

“I am relaxed,” Arthur said.

“No, you look like you could run an old lady over just to relieve some stress... and we aren’t even late.”

“With my father, it’s always late.”

Leon chuckled.

“Yeah, you say that because you don’t work with him...”

“Luckily,” said Arthur. The light changed to green, and he sped on.

“It’s going to be alright. I mean... you already told them, this is just a celebration. I don’t know why you’re so worried,” said Leon.

“I'm not worried,” replied Arthur, sullenly.

Leon chuckled.

“You actually remember I’ve known your family since I was a little boy, right?”

“Well, yes, but you haven’t seen them in a while,” said Arthur.

“I see Uther and Morgana almost every day at work,” said Leon. “Why are you so worried? Do you think they don’t approve of me?” he asked, but even to Arthur the question sounded absurd.

“No! Of course not. It’s not that... It’s just... Well, my mum is fine, but you know how Morgause is...” he trailed off.

“Oh, her I haven't seen in... what, a year and a half?” asked Leon. “But I’m sure it’ll be alright...”

“I don’t know,” said Arthur. “I just... argh, this isn’t a parking lot, you slow cow!” Arthur yelled, and honked at the van in front of his car.

“Arthur, relax,” Leon repeated. “You don’t have to impress me. Or them. We know each other. If Morgause reverts to her not-so-inner seventeen year old self, I can handle it diplomatically.”

Arthur and Leon had known each other forever. Their parents were friends, and though they didn’t attend the same schools, they used to spend the holidays together. Their houses were relatively near to one another’s. If there was someone who knows Arthur’s family as well as he himself did, that person was Leon.

Arthur went to a boarding school while Leon attended a public school. Uther wanted Arthur in the same school he had attended as a child, and most importantly, he wanted to get him out of his sight for a few months. Leon’s parents, on the other hand, didn’t want to let him go on his own into the big bad world, even if that big world were the walls and halls of an ancient school for boys. School year separations aside, Leon and Arthur had found time for each other.

Arthur smiled.

“Yeah, you can...” he said. He moved his hand from the gearstick, and reached out. Leon grabbed it.

“You’re sweating,” Leon said. “Come on, Arthur, you know it will be fine.”

Arthur nodded, and squeezed Leon’s hand before letting go and returning his attention to the road. He was feeling a little better now, but still unable to quite place the reasons to his worries.

They arrived five minutes early. Vivienne opened the door, welcoming them with a huge smile.

“Congratulations!” she said, hugging Leon first. She kissed his cheek and looked at him fondly. “I’m really happy for you,” she added, as if it wasn’t obvious, and she put her arms around Arthur and squeezed him like he was a big teddy bear.

“Thanks, mum,” he said, feeling all warm and fuzzy all of a sudden.

“Thank you, Vivienne,” said Leon, politely.

“And thank you for the bottle,” she said, grabbing it from Leon’s hand and inspecting it. “Oh, delicious,” she said. “I bet you were the one to pick it. Arthur couldn’t tell carton box wine from a Beringer.”

“I really couldn’t,” Arthur agreed with a shrug. He really didn’t know much about wines, much to his parents’ embarrassment, who were connoisseurs and often went on wine tasting trips around the world.

“Actually, I don’t know much about wines,” said Leon, as they moved further into the house. The table was set, and Vivienne left the bottle on it. Arthur noticed an extra place, but didn't say anything. “But Arthur told me that was one of your favourites...”

“Thank you for it anyway,” she said, dismissing the topic just like that. “Let’s move into the drawing room. Morgana is not here yet, I’m afraid. I hope she won’t be too late.”

“She had something urgent to finish at the office,” said Leon, as if excusing her lateness already.

“Oh, really?” she said. “Well, that’s no excuse. Everyone always has something urgent to finish at the office,” she said, flippantly.

She opened the door to the drawing room, and Arthur found Uther, Morgause, and a boy inside.

“Leon, Arthur!” said Uther, smiling with something akin to relief and standing up from the couch where he was sitting. “Congratulation, boys! It’s good to see you.”

 _Boys._ Arthur and Leon hadn’t been boys for a long time, but Uther always called them that. Arthur wondered if he’d ever stopped calling them that.

Uther gave the two of them a short hug, and pat on the back.

“Thank you,” said Leon and Arthur, almost in unison, almost like they were 12 again.

“Soooo...” Morgause stood up, and the boy mimicked her. He looked nervous and awkward. “Congratulations to you two,” she gave a short hug to Leon and Arthur, and it felt insincere and out of formality. Then, she added, “By the way, this is my boyfriend, Mordred.”

“Um, nice to meet you,” the boy said. He didn’t look older than 25, with his curly brown hair and huge blue eyes.

“Oh, um,” Leon reacted first. “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand. “I’m Leon. Arthur’s fiancé,” he added, with a smile that made Arthur feel all warm and fuzzy inside again.

“Hello,” said Arthur. “Well, this is a surprise. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” he said, looking at Morgause. (Let alone that he’d be coming tonight, he didn’t say.)

“Now you do,” said Morgause, and for some reason, Arthur couldn’t find any malice in the way she looked at Mordred, or any hidden motives. Just affection.

“It’s... nice to meet you,” Arthur added, awkwardly, because he didn’t want to just ask him how old he was and why the hell he was dating a woman who was probably ten years older than him when he could probably have any sweet uni girl he wanted. Not that Arthur cared about uni girls, but...

“Well, Morgana’s finally here,” said Vivienne, from the drawing room door. “Let’s eat already, I’m starving.”

Apparently Morgana already knew Mordred, because she greeted him with a certain familiarity. They all moved into the dining room, and their plates were soon full of food.

After several minutes of small talk, and before Leon, Morgana, and Uther could start talking about work, Vivienne took the reins of the conversation. Or at least, she asked the question that had been pestering Arthur’s head for a little while.

“So, how did you two meet?” she asked Mordred.

“Um, in a park,” said Mordred. The boy seemed unable to start a sentence with something other than “Um” or “Er.”

“Seriously?” asked Leon, his eyebrows knit, an amused grin pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Yes,” said Morgause, not looking up from her food. “I was stuck with writing a scene, and I got frustrated, so I just went to take a walk and then I got tired, and there was no other bench available in sight... it was sitting at the opposite end of him or at the opposite end of the teenagers making out,” she said, smiling fondly at the memory.

Arthur didn’t say anything.

“You just walked and sat next to him?” asked Leon.

Morgause shrugged.

“You know, people in the streets sometimes talk to each other and... stuff happens,” she said and exchanged a soft smile with Mordred.

“Weren’t you freaked out?” asked Morgana. “Like, ‘who the fuck is this bitch and what does she want?’”

Mordred snorted. Arthur and Morgause grinned. Uther rolled his eyes.

“Morgana!”

“Sorry, I meant to say, ‘By Jove! Who might be this maiden and what is the purpose of her sitting next to me...’”

“If you were going for posh or old fashioned, you failed,” said Arthur.

“I'm an advertiser, I can barely read, remember?” said Morgana, throwing him a mocking glare, but Arthur wondered if she still held grudges from old fights.

“That we know, sister,” said Morgause, patting her on the shoulder, before Arthur could respond.

“Um, to answer your question...” said Mordred, interrupting coyly. Suddenly, all eyes were on him and he got nervous. “I was mostly nervous because, well... not many women like her ever talk to me," he added, and blushed.

Morgause lowered her face, in what could’ve been embarrassment. No, Arthur could tell by the way the tip of her ears were read that she was going all lovesick school girl. How new.

“It was an interesting conversation,” said Morgause, composing herself.

Uther didn’t seem amused in the least.

“Well,” he said. “You said you were stuck with a scene... does that mean you’re working on a new film?”

“Oh yes,” she said, enthusiastically.

“What is it about?” asked Leon.

“Well... it’s several stories mixed in one,” she said. “But they’re all connected. There’s this old guy who is dying, who’s married to a younger women who repeatedly cheated on him and now feels guilty, and he even dumped his first wife and his son, who grew up resenting him because his mother died of cancer when he was like 14, and now he gives seminars on how to conquer women, but he’s really sexist. And then there’s this guy who used to be a champion on one of those contest shows but for kids, but now he’s a loser, in love with a much younger bartender, who doesn’t even know he exists. And then there’s a new kid who’s in the contest now, and the presenter of the show, who’s really sick, and whose daughter hates him for some unfathomable reason. She’s also a cocaine addict... and there’s the policeman who met her out of chance and developed a crush on her, but he's kind of useless as a policeman...” she said, gesticulating wildly and excitedly.

Leon looked at her for a moment, and then his brow furrowed.

“Isn't that... _Magnolia_?”

Morgause grinned.

“Well done!” she said.

Leon shook his head.

“You were messing with us,” said Arthur, frowning.

“Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look it one bit.

“That’s alright, Morgause. I know your ways...” Leon said, with a small smile.

“Thank goodness,” said Uther. “Because that sounded like a terrible movie.”

Morgause turned to glare at him.

“It is a masterpiece!”

“That’s debatable,” said Leon.

“Is it?” said Mordred, smiling at him with a glint of mischief in his eyes. His smile was enigmatic. Just like Morgause, he looked like he knew more than he was letting on, but didn't want you to know that. He could’ve fooled Arthur into thinking he was as innocent as he looked, but he’d had years of training with Morgause to recognise that expression. And so had Uther, apparently.

“Is it the one with the raining frogs?” asked Morgana.

“Yes,” said Morgause. “We watched it together, remember?”

“Not really,” said Morgana snorting. “But I remember the frogs...”

“Anyway,” said Uther, wiping his mouth. It seemed like the attention had been on Morgause and her boyfriend too long for his liking.

“I was going to wait a little more to make the announcement, but the board and I have come to the decision about...” he eyed Arthur and Leon. “Well, I’m just going to cut it short. Leon, you’re now a partner of the firm.”

Leon almost choked on his wine.

“Excuse me?”

Morgana looked at him, her mouth wide opened.

“Wow...” she said, and Arthur couldn’t, for the life of him, concentrate on patting Leon’s back to end his coughing fit and at the same time figure out if his sister’s surprise was of the happy or the unpleasant kind.

“Yes,” said Uther. “We’d been discussing it for weeks. You’ve made very successful campaigns recently, and we wouldn’t want the competition to snatch you away,” he added, with a sneer.

“Well, I don’t know what to say, I mean... It’s a great honour, sir...” Leon fumbled with his words.

“Don’t call me sir,” said Uther. “We’ll be family soon.”

“Of course,” said Vivienne. “Let's toast!”

Everyone raised their glasses and said cheers. Arthur was too stunned to even bother to check if his sisters’ smiles were genuine or not.

After dinner, everyone moved to the drawing room, except for Arthur’s mum who said she’d see everything was alright in the kitchen before joining them.

Uther poured three glasses of whiskey, one for himself, one for Arthur and one for Morgana.

“Leon, what can I offer you?” he asked.

“I’m alright, Uther. Thank you.”

Leon was positively glowing. Arthur didn’t know exactly why that was; if it was his promotion or the fact that Arthur’s family had (apparently) taken their engagement so well. Morgause and Mordred were in a corner of the room examining Uther’s old records collection, and then she turned and announced they were going out to the patio for some fresh air, and they were gone.

“I’ll be right back too,” said Arthur. He got closer to Leon, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and muttered, “the loo,” as if he had to justify his sudden need to run.

Leon nodded, and squeezed his hand before letting him go and engage in conversation about the office with Morgana and Uther.

Arthur did go to the loo. And then he went to find his mother in the kitchen.

He sometimes grew tired of company. And it was something he had in common with Vivienne, and perhaps with Morgause too. He’d once called Morgause an elitist bitch and they had a terrible fight over it, but the fact was that the three of them were the same.

He found his mother piling up dishes in the sink.

“What are you doing?” he frowned. “Doesn’t... whatshernameagain clean the kitchen?”

“Her name is Martha, Arthur," she said with a sigh. “And I gave her a three day holiday starting today.”

“So you cooked and prepared dinner by yourself?” asked Arthur, extending his arms to help. The dinner had been exquisite.

“Yes, darling,” she said with a smile.

“But... You could’ve mentioned it. We would’ve gone somewhere...”

“No, no, I wanted to do it,” said Vivienne.

“Let me at least help you with the dishes... or something,” said Arthur, lamely.

“Then take out the rubbish,” she said.

Arthur took the bag, which was already tied, from where it was next to the door that gave way to the garden and the backyard of the house.

Far into the garden, he saw Morgause and her boyfriend sitting on the bench, talking. He stopped for a moment, after dropping the bag in the bin, and observed them. Morgause was talking, pointing at things in the garden, and even from afar, Arthur could see how besotted Mordred looked. That seemed sincere. Though it could be fake, too. Then he said something that made Morgause laugh, all shaking shoulders and head thrown back, the way Arthur laughed with all his heart, and Arthur felt a pang of worry. But Mordred only seemed delighted, laughing awkwardly. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, and Arthur turned away, uncomfortable.

“I don’t like him,” he announced, as soon as he entered the kitchen.

“Then don’t marry him,” said Vivienne with a shrug.

“I wasn’t talking about Leon,” said Arthur.

“Me either,” said Vivienne. “He seems like a nice kid...”

“Exactly, you said it – kid. He’s like... for fuck’s sake, he looks 16. What’s with Morgause? She always said men were immature and she acted like no one was good enough for her and now she’s dating this uni boy? Seriously?” he said, annoyed.

“Well, she seems happy.”

“Exactly! That’s what worries me!” said Arthur. “I don’t trust him.”

“Honey, you don’t trust anyone,” said Vivienne. She finished pouring the remaining food into plastic containers. Arthur automatically moved towards the sink and started doing the dishes.

“I trust you,” he said.

“Then trust me on this one. I think he’s good for her. She’s been so...” she didn’t finish her sentence but instead moved her hand in a vague gesture, “Lately.”

“If by lately you mean all her life...” said Arthur.

Vivienne smiled.

“But I’m happy. I’ve always wanted to see one of mine in white, have a beautiful ceremony, maybe under an arch with wisterias...”

Arthur snorted.

“Like either Morgause or Morgana would ever get married, and wear a white dress...”

“I was talking about you.”

“Oh... well, I don’t look well in dresses.”

“Nonsense. You used to dress up when you were a kid, I remember.”

“That was only once and Morgana dared me!”

“It was Morgause’ favourite dress...” said Vivienne. “She was angry for a week.”

Arthur smiled.

“Only because I looked better in it...”

Vivienne leaned on the counter, and smiled at him.

“See? You should wear a white dress. I’m happy, you know. Now I know I’m getting grandkids and everything...”

“Hey, who said anything about babies? Go ask the ones with wombs for that!” he said.

Vivienne didn't say anything. She just smiled and observed him, like she was trying to figure him out and she was happy with what she was seeing. All the women in his family were like that... inquisitive, judgmental. But then again, so were the men.

“Are you happy, Arthur?” she asked. “You look happy, but... Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” he said, almost in automatic pilot. It was the same question Morgana had asked him as soon as he’d told her the good news, and the same thing Uther had asked, and he could bet it would be the first thing Morgause would ask him if they ever talked to each other alone soon.

“Good,” she said. She got closer and gave him a peek on the cheek. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, mum,” said Arthur and smiled.

There were voices outside, and Morgause entered with Mordred behind her, from outdoors.

“Oh, hey,” she said. “We were going to see if there was more wine left,” she added. Mordred smiled at Arthur and Vivienne, but he didn’t say anything.

“You’re acting like a teenager,” said Arthur, glaring at her.

Morgause shrugged.

“Weren’t you the one who said I was perpetually 13?”

“Thirteen year old girls shouldn’t drink,” said Vivienne.

“You said that to me too, once,” added Morgause, with a cheeky smirk. Mordred just loomed there, awkwardly. In fact he seemed to be unable to look at anyone but Morgause, like Vivienne and Arthur were intruders. But then, when Morgause turned to him to ask him if he wanted red or white, he seemed to light up. They opened a bottle of red, and left the kitchen, presumably to the drawing room to join the rest.

“You noticed it too, then?” asked Vivienne. “The way he looks at her...”

“Yeah...” said Arthur.

“He is entirely besotted,” she said. “It’s refreshing.”

Arthur frowned.

“Hey, I’m the one who’s getting married.”

“Yes, love, but... you’re not like that,” she added, with a shrug.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t express things that way, that’s all...” she said. “Leave those..." she said, putting her hand on Arthur's forearm. “I’ll do the rest of the dishes tomorrow. We should join them. Your fiancé is waiting...”

Arthur nodded, and after rinsing his hands, followed her out.

*

Arthur sits on the carpet, his back resting at the foot of the bed, looking calm. Merlin smiles at him and the next thing he knows, he’s lying on the bed, close to him, letting his hand run through his golden hair. There’s a fireplace, and the fire is burning and cracking, and it’s cosy and nice, warm. This has to be Arthur’s dream. Merlin never dreams of places like this. And he was pretty sure he was in the hospital’s nursery, looking at the newly born babies, when suddenly he found himself standing in this room.

They skip greetings and questions this time.

“I like your hair,” he says. “And I usually don’t like blonds.”

Arthur looks up at Merlin and grins.

“Thanks,” he says. “I like yours too.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Merlin asks.

“I don’t know... but it’ll be next year,” says Arthur. “That much I remember.”

“One of my friends is getting married too,” says Merlin. “But... this winter.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that a bit cold for a wedding?”

“Yeah, but he likes the season,” says Merlin.

Arthur nods in acknowledgment, and adds, “I wish you could come to the wedding.”

“Your wedding?” Merlin says, and chuckles. “Why?”

Arthur shrugs, his gaze fixed on his lap.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I just do.”

Merlin presses a kiss to the top of his head, and his yearning is so strong he doesn’t know how he can contain himself. And suddenly, he’s on his lap, kissing him, nice and slow.

“Sleep with me,” he mutters to his lips.

Arthur shakes his head, moves a bit away.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Merlin frowns.

“Why not? It will have no consequences at all,” he says. “I don’t understand.”

He sighs.

“I can’t be unfaithful to him, I can’t cheat. We’ve hurt each other before, but this is something I’d never do to him,” he says. “You know that. I’ve told you before. And it’s been like that too, when you’re with someone. Remember? We talked about this, not so long ago...”

Merlin shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I got carried away. I remember now.” Yes. There was rain. And flowers, too, in that dream, but...

“Thank you for understanding,” says Arthur, and snaps Merlin out of it. Sometimes they can slip away like that, if they start to think of something else, and they’ll leave the dream. It’s such a fragile thing, what they have here. Arthur doesn’t want Merlin to slip away so easily. He likes his company too much.

“You really love him, don’t you?” Merlin asks.

“Yes,” Arthur says without hesitation.

*

When Arthur woke up, Leon was sleeping soundly next to him. Leon snored gently, almost unperceivable, and Arthur had learned to love that noise throughout the years.

He pressed a soft kiss to Leon’s shoulder, and briefly toyed with the idea of waking him up for morning sex. Except Arthur was really tired, and he had one more hour of sleep before the alarm went off and sent him out to the streets to run, so Arthur closed his eyes and tried, without much success at first, to sleep again.

*

Merlin met Sefa when she had started her training to become a nurse at Albion Hospital more than three years ago. Now she was a certified nurse, who had landed a job at the Essetir City Hospital. Folks from the hospital threw her a goodbye party, and even though Merlin had never exactly been close to her, he was invited and decided to attend. It wasn’t like he got much going on in his life anyway.

They were in a pub, near the hospital, and Merlin walked away from the group for a moment to buy another pint.

“One for me, too,” said a guy behind him. “My treat,” he added, smiling at Merlin.

“Um, thanks,” said Merlin with a smile.

“She looks so happy,” said the guy, pointing at Sefa. Merlin remembered him. They’d been all elusive glances and awkward smiles all evening. He was a good looking guy; younger, definitely, but with a charming smile and great hair.

“Yeah,” said Merlin. “She’s worked so hard. She deserves it.”

“I’m Daegal, by the way.”

“Merlin. Nice to meet you.”

“Do you know Sefa from the hospital?”

“Yeah... you?”

“We’ve been friends since we were in school together. I kind of feel a little sad that she’s leaving now.”

“I got the same feeling when I came to Camelot for uni, and my best friend stayed in our hometown,” Merlin said, and he wasn’t sure why he was telling this to this stranger. Maybe it was the alcohol, but it didn’t make for a good opening line, or icebreaker. It was, perhaps, too intimate for a first approach.

“So you’re not from here?” Daegal said, and he seemed alright with Merlin’s little sharing.

“I’m from Ealdor.”

“Oh! I’ve been there,” he said, grinning, and it was charming. “It’s quite a lovely town.”

“Thanks,” said Merlin, and couldn’t help but return the grin. “There’s nothing to do there, though.”

He chuckled.

“I was there only for a weekend,” Daegal said, “but I enjoyed it. The forest is nice.”

“Glad you liked it,” said Merlin. “Are you in medicine, too?” he asked, pointing with his head toward Sefa.

“Oh no,” he said. “I’m getting my PhD in History...”

“That’s interesting,” said Merlin, grinning. “I’ve never met a historian before...”

They went out for dinner the following day.

*

Daegal’s kisses tasted of the Irish coffee he’d just had, of cream and whiskey, and his body was lean and warm against Merlin’s. He kissed like Merlin was the only thing that mattered in the world, and Merlin knew his type – he was flirty and playful, but you could also tell when he genuinely liked someone.

And that someone seemed to be Merlin.

“Goodnight,” he whispered to Merlin’s lips, and pulled away.

“You don’t wanna come in?” asked Merlin, his face all flushed, and not caring to disguise the disappointment in his voice.

Daegal kissed him again, slow and sweet.

“I’m dying to. But I can’t. Maybe next time?”

Merlin was a bit puzzled, but he nodded.

“Sure,” he said.

“I’ll call you.”

*

Daegal did call the next day during Merlin’s lunch. It turned out that he had a presentation in the morning, which he needed to finish. That was why he couldn’t spend the night at Merlin’s place, but he was more than willing to make up for his absence as soon as Merlin was free again.

It flowed easily afterwards.

*

“I’m seeing someone,” he says, smiling softly at Arthur.

Arthur raises an eyebrow.

“What’s his name?” Arthur asks, and then he rolls his eyes. “No, never mind. Let me guess. You don’t remember.”

Merlin shrugs, but there’s a playful smile on his face. This person he’s seeing is good for him, Arthur can tell. Or at least, so far, he seems a little happier than the last time they met.

“I know he’s hot, though,” he says, “and I do like him.”

“I’m glad,” says Arthur. “You’ve been a bit down ever since you broke up with your last boyfriend.” Merlin just looks at him.

“Everyone thinks I’m sad about him,” he says. “Or that I was sad about him. I was, but I got over it. I was sad about something else.”

“What was it?”

Merlin shrugs again.

“I’m not quite sure. I guess... I heard... I think I saw him, or I heard, I don’t know, that he was dating someone else. It wasn’t the fact that he was with someone else but more like the fact that he was with someone and I wasn’t.”

“Like a competition of who could move on first...” Arthur says.

Merlin chuckles.

“Sounds sick, but I think that’s what it was,” he says.

“No, it’s not. At least... That’s kind of a thing I used to do, with my fiancé. When we were younger, and we fought and broke up and made up and then fight again and...” Arthur slips off.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, ‘cause we’re even, I guess,” Merlin says.

Arthur nods.

“I’m glad. We should drink to that.”

Merlin doesn’t even notice how they went from a street setting to the interior of a pub. The lights are low, and they are the only people there (if you don’t count the rhino standing on two legs, playing pac-man at the corner of the pub), sitting at the bar, with two glasses of red wine.

“Cheers,” Merlin says, and he knows there aren’t wines that taste as good as this in real life.

“Do you remember when we first met?” Arthur asks, out of the blue.

Merlin blinks at him.

“I don’t... Oh yes. A schoolyard. We played together. How old were we?”

“I was five,” Arthur says, without hesitation. “I remember. I told... I told my mother about the dream, even made a drawing and she put it on the fridge. She still has them somewhere. I saw it... in her house, I think. I...” he trails off, confused, memories overlapping.

“No, I remember. I was five too, and in preschool,” says Merlin, and he’s smiling fondly. “We played, and played, and played.”

Arthur grinned.

“Remember that time we went on some kind of adventure together? It was like a thing from Doctor Who, another planet or something...”

“Oh yes. I think that was during your sci-fi phase,” Merlin says, chuckling. “Those were definitely your dreams.”

“Yeah, you have no imagination,” Arthur says. “You always dream of such boring things.”

“What, do you think that rhino over there is boring?”

  
Arthur turns around, sees the rhino, and turns back to Merlin.

“This is my dream.”

“How do you know?” Merlin asks.

“Because I’m waki—”

Arthur disappears, like fog.

Merlin’s still holding his glass of wine, and he’s standing in the middle of a living room full of televisions. Each one of them is showing what appears to be a different show, and he gets distracted.

*

Arthur wasn’t a morning person. He loathed waking up early every day, but once he could shake off the drowsiness, he enjoyed going to the gym and working out. He enjoyed the endorphins, and coming back home for a shower and breakfast.

Leon preferred to work out at nights, so they don’t often have breakfast together, not during weekdays. But he usually left something for Arthur, either fresh orange juice or muffins he bought from the bakery that was a 10 minute trip from their house by car.

This particular morning, Arthur had some extra time and decided to munch on the chocolate chip muffin slowly, enjoying the food and the peace of the house to himself. He remembered the dream he had last night, and realised, with a little surprise, that Leon wasn’t his first everything.

It was that man he dreamed about sometimes. Arthur had been dreaming about him since he was a little kid, since they were both little kids. He had to admit that when things were a little low and nothing was going on in his love life, he often resorted to fantasies about this guy to keep himself entertained. About him being real, about meeting him, and maybe starting something together.

But of course that was a ridiculous thought. That guy couldn’t be real. For instance, he didn’t even have a name. Well, at least, Arthur’s subconscious hadn’t given him a name, which was weird. He wondered if perhaps some therapy could help him figure out the meaning of these dreams. (Arthur didn’t like therapy. He wasn’t sure it helped his mother when she’d fallen depressed or Morgana when she had all her problems while she was a teenager. But then again, her mother didn’t seem depressed anymore and Morgana was alright now.)

He still had to admit, though, that the dreams were intriguing. It was almost as if his subconscious had built a person, a guy who was perfect for Arthur in every way, someone who’d seen his greatest hopes and fears and who still wanted to be around him. It had been him; Arthur’s first kiss, when they were – when Arthur was – about twelve or thirteen, and the first person to appear in his wet dreams. So, technically, if this guy were a real person, he would be Arthur’s first everything, and he’d probably be the perfect person for Arthur.

He shook the thought off his head. That was absurd and impossible. Leon was that guy for him. Leon had always been that guy for him. The bloke in his dreams... well, he was just a dream.

*

Summer was almost over. The weather was getting cooler, the days shorter, and Merlin felt like having his pints in cosier, more intimate places. But then again, that perhaps had something to do with Daegal rather than the weather. Things were nice with him, simpler. There were dinner-and-movies, pubs and clubs (and though Merlin was a little too old for clubbing now, and Daegal was fond of flirting wildly, Merlin always took him home at the end of the night), there were weekends in.

There were walks through the city, too. Daegal liked to take long walks, especially through the old part of Camelot, and point out the history of the buildings to Merlin. He acted pretty much as a tour guide, but he was so passionate about it that Merlin loved it, and he knew all the juicy historical details Merlin hadn’t been taught about in school. He was adorable (more so than usual) when he got excited about something.

It was only natural that one day, Merlin woke up to a steaming cup of coffee (and how Daegal knew in no time just exactly how Merlin liked it would forever remain a mystery to him), and said out loud.

“This is a good thing.”

Daegal, who was now back in bed, his hair messy and his eyes a bit puffy after a late night and little sleep, took a sip of his own coffee and asked, “What? You like the coffee?”

He smiled.

Merlin returned it, and said, “Yeah. But I meant...”

He got cold feet.

Maybe it was too soon. Needy? What would Daegal think? They’d only been seeing each other for a month or so, and it’s not like Merlin was in love, but he thought, he really thought that maybe, in the future, he could.

There was no way he could say all that aloud.

“You meant?” Daegal pushed.

“This feels good. Us,” Merlin said, and shrugged it off as if it was nothing. He looked away, embarrassed. For all his confidence, for all the people whose heart Merlin had stolen in his life (and there been quite a few, especially in his younger days, and sometimes he didn’t even realise...), Merlin felt more than insecure, scared. He didn’t want to ruin what they had by appearing too forward.

He heard Daegal put his cup on the bedside table.

“Merlin?” he said, tentatively.

Merlin turned to look at him, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Yeah?”

Daegal took Merlin’s cup from his hand, left it next to his, said, “I’m glad you think that,” and kissed him.

Neither of them said anything coherent for a while after that.

*

Arthur woke up from a pleasant dream to a room darkened by heavy curtains. He wasn’t sure what time it was. He slid his hand out of the covers and fumbled blindly for his phone, on the bedside table.

It was almost noon, and he realised he was really hungry. Next to him, the bed was empty. He could hear the faint sound of the television through the closed door of his and Leon’s bedroom. Arthur got out of bed with a groan (he wanted to sleep some more, but it’d been too many hours already and he wanted to eat and he needed to pee).

He made his way through the kitchen, mumbling a g’morning to Leon, who was watching a football match with little interest.

“Hello,” Leon said. He had showered and was fully dressed, looking handsome and bright and way too cheerful for a Sunday. Sundays always depressed Arthur, for some unfathomable reason, but Leon seemed to like them.

“I’m starving,” he said.

“Go back to bed. I’ll get you some breakfast.”

Arthur smiled, dreamily, and it had a lot to do with the fact that he was half-asleep still.

“Mmm.... okay,” he said.

Leon laughed.

“You didn’t need much convincing...”

“Did you actually think you’d have to convince me?”

“No,” said Leon. He leaned forward and kissed him, morning breath be damned. Leon was always like that. Affectionate, and warm, and he pampered Arthur.

“Thanks,” said Arthur, and moved away, his bed seeming a lot more inviting now.

“Eggs benedict?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah...”

Arthur grinned and said, “I’ll go wait, then.”

It was nice living with Leon, Arthur thought, as he rested his head on the pillow and tried to catch a few more minutes of sleep. He’d been so exhausted lately. Leon was everything he’d ever wanted in a man, and more. They’ve known each other forever, and he was so good to Arthur. Well, except when he wasn’t. When they got destructive and vicious, when they fought and hit each other where it would truly hurt. They knew each another too well, they knew exactly what to say, and they never held back. That had been one of the weakness of their relationship in the past – harsh words. It was as if they were capable of bringing out the worse in each other, but not necessarily the best.

Arthur stopped that train of thought right there. He didn’t need doubts, or to open old wounds. Instead, he tried to stop thinking and just go back to sleep. But of course, now he wasn’t sleepy, because he remembered his dream.

He’d been dreaming about the guy as of lately. He didn’t have a name for him, and in his head, he was just He-who-had-haunted-Arthur’s-dreams-since-childhood. But lately, he’d been dreaming of him... differently. Their dreams always had an extreme sense of reality, like no matter how wacky they were, when Arthur reminisced about them (and he often surprised himself doing that), they had quite a weight to them, a heavy element anchored them to reality. Some random facts, things Arthur would say and remember, even if he couldn’t quite remember his face.

Except, lately, it felt like a dream within a dream. Like it wasn’t the same guy, but just a subconscious version of him. He was much less himself and more what Arthur thought he was. Arthur knew it couldn’t be him, because he kept saying things like he was an architect that worked for a firm in Alined. Sometimes he was a café musician. Or he was married to a woman and they had three kids (and that had been quite a nightmare, though the kids were cute). There was no way he could be, well, He-who-had-haunted-Arthur’s-dreams-since-childhood, because that guy could never give him any details about himself, and neither could Arthur to him. In these new dreams, Arthur could remember his name, his work, where he lived, everything. And he told him, every time, as if he wanted to be found.

But found before what? Arthur sighed. He shifted in bed, uncomfortable and anxious. He couldn’t hear Leon in the kitchen downstairs, making breakfast for him. Why he was so desperate to be found by a man who doesn’t even exist, he didn’t know. And he didn’t want to find out.

Lately, though, when he was close to Leon, there was a longing he couldn’t suppress. At first, he’d thought it was that feeling he’d had before they got engaged – the need for something more, something serious, something secure and definite. But they had almost reached that now – the wedding was merely a formality for both of them – and he still felt like that. There was no security, nothing definite, nothing stable. Normally that wouldn’t scare him; that was life, and Arthur tried not to take things for granted. And sometimes he wondered if he took Leon for granted and if he didn’t value him as well as he should, if he was taking this with the seriousness it was required of him.

Arthur didn’t dwell on it, but there was always a dull ache in his chest, very much like anxiety, like angst, when he thought of his relationship with Leon. He _tried_ not to dwell on it, because, well, love was supposed to hurt, wasn’t it?

*

“Whoa, this is a nice place,” says Gwen, as soon as they entered the restaurant.

“Yeah, well...”

“Are you sure they won’t mind changing the reservation from two to three?” asked Lancelot.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I talked to the headwaiter before you guys arrived,” Merlin said with a shrug.

The place, luckily, wasn’t packed that night, and Merlin had had no problem in changing his reservation. Luckily, Gwen was out of the hospital by that hour, and luckily she and Lancelot where in the mood to keep him company. It would’ve sucked to spend his first free evening in two weeks alone in his flat because his boyfriend cancelled their plans at the very last minute.

“And I love Thai too,” said Gwen, with a grin. “We should do this more often. It’s like old times, the three of us out together...”

“Yeah,” said Merlin, and chuckled. “And then you and this one,” he said, gesturing with his head towards Lancelot, “would get all lovey dovey and it’d be really awkward for me.”

“That’s not true!” said Gwen. “We never ignored you!”

“Except when we did,” said Lancelot, and he had a nostalgic smile on his face.

“And it happened often,” said Merlin, as he scanned the menu.

“But you can’t complain,” said Lancelot. “If I remember correctly, you went home with someone more often than Gwen and I went home together after those outings,” he said.

Merlin chuckled, “Yeah, I guess...”

“Oh, that I remember,” said Gwen. “But seriously, Merlin. It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages...”

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin. “You know how training is...”

“Yeah, but now you spend all your free time with that boyfriend of yours,” said Gwen, wrinkling her nose.

“Naturally!” said Merlin, and he beamed. “We’re only at the beginning. We want to be all over each other all the time. Once we’re like you guys, we’ll want time away from each other.”

“Hey!” said Gwen. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin started to laugh, but Lancelot remained silent, focused on his menu. “Never mind that,” Gwen continued. “What do you mean once you’re like us? Is it serious?”

Merlin turned to them with a big, dorky grin.

“Well...” he said, and shrugged.

“I wanna meet him,” said Lancelot, as if he’d suddenly remember he was part of the conversation.

“Yeah... How long have you guys been together?”

“Just a couple of months,” said Merlin. “But... things are good.”

“I’m glad,” said Gwen. “By the way, Edwin broke up with that twink nurse of his.”

“Gwen!” said Lancelot.

“What?”

“We’d agreed not to... you know, keep bringing up the ex,” he said, looking uncomfortable.

“It’s fine,” said Merlin. “I don’t really care...”

And he meant it. It was funny... well, obviously, he didn’t with anything bad on Edwin, but he just wasn’t interested in finding out about his love life or lack thereof. He was truly over him now.

“Sorry, Merlin,” said Gwen. “I just... You seemed so down when I accidentally slipped that he was seeing someone, I thought...”

“I’m over him, Gwen,” said Merlin. “I really am.”

“Well, I’m glad. And I really hope to meet the new one soon. If he gets you to smile like that, he must be a keeper.”

Merlin grinned again, like the big dork he was.

He turned to Lancelot, to ask him if he was free next week, but he caught his friend with a distant look in his eyes.

“Lance?” Merlin said. “Are you free next Friday? We could have dinner, the four of us...”

“Oh, I... I don’t know, Merlin,” he said, and he still seemed distracted.

“Oh, can it be on Saturday?” asked Gwen. “We’ve got tickets for the theatre...”

“Ah! What are you watching?”

“ _Wicked_ ,” said Gwen, with a grin.

Lancelot let out a dramatic sigh.

“Seriously? But Lance hates musicals...” said Merlin.  

“Nah, I just... don’t particularly like them,” his friend said, with a shrug.

“Except for _Hedwig and the Angry Inch_ ,” said Gwen, rolling her eyes. “What did you say that one was? A poststructuralist and/or a postmodern masterpiece?”

Lancelot flushed.

“I never said that!”

“You said something snobbish like that,” she said. “I told you, if you don’t want to come to the theatre, I’ll find someone else. Merlin and his boy, for instance. We’d probably be able to get another ticket if we tried...”

“It’s fine, Gwen, I said I’ll go.”

“Yeah, well,” she frowned. “I wouldn’t want to force you. I mean, perhaps you’d enjoy water torture more.”

Merlin gulped.

He’d been in the middle of one of Gwen and Lancelot’s fights before, but it was always something dumb and easily dealt with. Usually Lancelot reached out, kissed her, asked her to forgive him, and that was it. And when Gwen was at the wrong, well, she’d just bat her big brown eyes at him, and that was it. But of course, nothing could ever be that simple between a couple. Merlin knew that from experience, but it was making him uncomfortable to see his friends fight. Really fight. They’d never done it in front of him like this. Occasionally he’d consoled one or the other after a big argument, but he was never the witness to one.

“Oh for god’s sake, Gwen! I told you I’d go. It’s fine, really,” said Lancelot. “Just drop it.”

“What is wrong with you?” she asked. “You’ve been acting all weird and passive-aggressive...”

“I’m the passive-aggressive one?” said Lancelot, raising a very judging, very passive-aggressive eyebrow at her.

Lancelot was incapable of hurting anyone’s feelings directly. That was perhaps his best and worse quality. Merlin sighed.

“Hey,” he said. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but the waitress is coming to take our orders...”

Gwen and Lancelot ordered, both putting up polite and friendly faces to the waitress and to Merlin. It made Merlin feel even weirder. Perhaps it was just a simple discussion and they could let it go that easily, and Merlin as dwelling too much into it. He couldn’t help it. As much as he kept telling himself he wasn’t working all the time, he still tried to figure out people and their motives, even if said people were his best friends.

“So, next Friday is not possible,” said Merlin, trying to go back to The Boyfriend topic after the waitress left, and an uncomfortable silence settled in. “What about in two weeks? I can cook and you guys can come over to my place.”

Nothing like offering to cook for them to get Gwen and Lancelot in a better mood. They loved Merlin’s cooking.

Gwen smiled at him, “Yeah, that sounds nice...” she fished out her phone and checked something on it, “Yeah, I’m free. What about you?” she said, to Lancelot.

He simply nodded.

“Okay, it’s settled then,” said Merlin, grinning. “Now... um, let me warn you about Daegal...”

“What?” asked Gwen.

“He’s young...ish. Younger than me,” said Merlin.

“You’ve mentioned that, but how much?” asked Gwen, “He’s not 15, is he? Because I don’t think that’s legal.”

“Oh my god, Gwen, no! It’s just five years, he’s 27.”

“Aw, that’s not a big difference,” said Gwen.

“Yeah, but sometimes... he acts as if he were 18,” said Merlin.

Lancelot frowned.

“Are you two having problems?” he asked.

“No, no, it’s just that... sometimes we go clubbing and I feel... too old for that, to be honest,” he said, with a chuckle.

“We’ve always been too old for that,” said Gwen. “Except when we were freshmen.”

“If it weren’t for that year, we would’ve never met you,” said Merlin, turning to Lancelot. “And the three of us wouldn’t be here...”

Lancelot simply nodded, and remained silent.

“Oh my god, we are getting old. Look at us, talking about the years of youth gone by...” Gwen said, and started to laugh.

“Let’s avoid those topics of conversation while we’re with Daegal,” said Merlin.

Gwen laughed some more, and then added, “You wish! I’m going to tell him everything about your escapades when you were a young lad, like him!”

Lancelot snorted.

“You make him sound like a sugar daddy...”

“What! No! Stop!” said Merlin. “Stop right there!”

“Ooooh... I think you’ve discovered the black thread,” said Gwen. “Merlin, how much have you spent on this boy? Have you bought him expensive clothes? A Rolex?”

“I can barely pay the rent of my own flat, let alone buy stuff for him!” he complained.

“Ahhh but you always had a good nose for part-time jobs,” said Lancelot. “You got me one at the library, and the other one at the bookshop, and the café... Is that why you’re so busy?”

“He’s not spending time with Daegal, but working to buy Daegal stuff so he can spend time with him,” said Gwen.

Merlin let them gang up on him. Anything to break the ice and get them in a good mood again. Soon after their little teasing, they were in a good mood again, and Merlin felt like he could finally breathe and relax with his friends.

They had two bottles of wine, and Lancelot, after almost finishing the second one, complained about the difficulty of finding decent Chilean wines in Camelot.

“You should start an import business with whatever money you get from your next book,” said Merlin with a grin. “Bring us all those lovely wines you’re always talking about.”

“Yes,” said Gwen. “I’ll quit paediatrics and we’ll build a shop with wooden floors and walls.”

“You’ll only get posh, snobbish clients,” said Merlin, “And you’ll be millionaires in no time.”

“What do you say, love? Do you like the idea?”

Lancelot was looking wistfully at his almost empty glass.

“Lance?” Merlin prodded, as he didn’t answer Gwen.

“I’m sorry, what were you guys saying?”

She giggled.

“You’re half-drunk already, come on... Let’s ask for the check...”

Merlin shivered as they stepped outside. He wasn’t counting on the weather getting so cold so soon. They walked together towards the train station, talking nonsense about that wine shop.

When Lancelot and Gwen hugged Merlin goodbye in the platform, it felt nice, warm, and familiar. It was like that – Gwen and Lancelot were almost family to him. All of them had no one else but the other two. Well, of course, Gwen and Lancelot were together, but Lance’s parents were in France, and Gwen’s had passed away and she hadn’t talked to her brother in years.

Throughout the years, they had looked after one another, the way family does.

“What are you thinking, Merls?” asked Gwen.

Merlin snorted.

“Don’t call me that!”

“I’m allowed to call you Merls when you’re drunk and spacing out.”

“I’m not drunk! That wasn’t enough wine to get me—”

Lancelot started to laugh.

“Your train is coming, Merlin,” he said. “We’ll see you soon.”

Merlin yelped and jumped into the train. The doors closed and he could see Gwen and Lancelot, hugging, and waving at him as if he were off to a trip to the country of thieves and ghosts, instead of just a few stations away.

*

“Sorry we’re late,” said Leon, as soon as Morgana hopped onto the back seat. “Arthur overslept.”

“I figured it would happen, don’t worry,” she said. “We’ve still got plenty of time...”

“No, we need to be there in half an hour...” said Leon, sounding stressed and making Arthur want to press his foot down the accelerator pedal, or jump out of the car and leave them right there.

“Not really,” said Morgana, “Our flight leaves in three hours, so we’re fine...”

“Oh...” said Leon. “I thought you’d said—”

“Yeah, and I knew Needy Arthur would insist on driving us to the airport. I’m e-mailing you the confirmation number,” she said.

Leon’s phone beeped.

“Oh, it’s true. Thanks, Morgana,” he said, relieved.

“So how are you, Arthur?”

“Meh,” he answered.

“Drowsy and grumpy is my best guess,” said Leon, who seemed now in a much better mood. It didn’t improve Arthur’s in the least.

“It’s an average day, then,” said Morgana. “We could stop for coffee...”

“No,” said Arthur. “You’re going to be late.”

“Nah, we’re not...” she said, calmly. “Thanks for picking me up, by the way.”

“It’s no problem,” said Arthur, without much feeling.

“Hey, sorry I got so nasty over it,” said Leon.

Yeah, well, nasty wouldn’t begin to cover it. He was leaving for two weeks to New York to supervise shootings and a bunch of stuff for a very important campaign he was doing together with Morgana, and the first thing he did on the morning he was leaving was to pick up a fight over the simple fact that Arthur didn’t get out of bed early.

Well, alright, Arthur overslept, but it wasn’t like he had to get ready for a long flight, he just had to put on some clothes and drive them to the airport. He knew that Leon was stressed and anxious over it, too, and he wanted to be patient. It wasn’t the things he said (dumb recriminations like “you’re always like this, Arthur, blah blah...”) but more like the fact that he’d start a fight when they weren’t going to see each other for a while.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I know you’re stressed over it.”

“No, I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t... I mean, we won’t see each other for a while and I’ll miss you and I just...”

“Oh god,” said Morgana, and Arthur could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “It’s two weeks, for fuck’s sake, not two years. Suck it, love birds, you’ve been apart for longer than that.”

It was settled then. Arthur let out a sigh, and let it go. And as soon as he let go of his anger, the anxiety of being separated from Leon kicked in.

“It’s fine,” he said, and turned to smile swiftly at Leon before the light changed to green and he had to keep his eyes on the road.

“I’ll miss you,” said Leon.

Morgana started to me gauge noises like the nine year old she was.

“Me, too...” said Arthur. “Get me something from the Met.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know. Surprise me.”

“Oh god, I should’ve taken a taxi,” said Morgana.

“Are we making you uncomfortable, sister?” said Arthur, grinning at her through the rear-view mirror.

“Yes! You’re even worse than Morgause and Mordred.”

“Oh, are they still together?” said Arthur, not caring to disguise his disdain for the whole affair.

“Uh, yeah,” said Morgana. “It’s getting pretty serious, if you ask me...”

“Isn’t he a little too young for her?” said Leon, sounding as sceptical as Arthur felt.

“I thought so, too, when I first met him,” said Morgana. “I mean, my first thought was something among the lines of ‘is she going through a cougar phase now?’, but it... it seems serious, like I said. They seem alright. And he’s lovely, you know...”

“Well, he’s 20, everyone’s lovely at that age,” said Arthur.

Morgana snorted.

“You weren’t. You were horrible. Plus, he’s older than that, come on...” she said.

“I feel like he’s a gigolo who will steal all her fortune or something,” said Arthur, voicing out his fears for the first time.

“I don’t think it’s necessarily that,” said Leon. “He seemed really into her...”

“ _Exactly_. No one is into Morgause,” said Arthur.

“Hey!” said Morgana. “That’s a shitty thing to say, even coming from you!”

Arthur had to agree with her, but it was the truth. Morgause wasn’t exactly likeable. Well, she had her good side, but...

“Whatever, you know it’s true,” he said. “She’s picky. She’s elitist, and a big snob, and—”

“Okay, I really don’t want to talk about this,” said Morgana. “Let’s change the subject.”

“But—”

“Arthur, come the fuck on. We’re siblings. You can’t talk about her like that.”

“Why not? You talk shit about me all the time.”

“Yeah, but I don’t mean it,” she said. “You know I love you even if you’re a twat.”

“And what? I don’t care for Morgause because I see how difficult she can be?”

“It’s not that...” Morgana said, “It’s how resentful you sound.”

Arthur felt the beginning of a headache pulsing under his temples.

“You know what, let’s drop it,” he said.

“That’s exactly what I suggested,” said Morgana.

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

And an awkward silence settled in. Of course, Leon knew better than to jump in a fight between them. He’d had years of practise. Arthur turned on the radio, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, find a decent song.

“You know,” said Leon, after a minute of Arthur fumbling with the stations. He put his hand on Arthur’s, and turned off the radio. “I’ve been thinking about the wedding.”

“What about it?” asked Arthur.

“Where are we going to get married? I mean, we said a small ceremony, but...”

“I don’t know,” said Arthur. “Not the club, though.”

“Oh god, definitely not. We said small,” said Leon, with a chuckle.

“I just... I have no idea, I mean, I’ve thought of places and stuff but nothing seems right....” he said starting to feel a little anxious. Thinking about the wedding made him feel like that.

“Why don’t you guys hire a wedding planner? They can do all the worrying and stressing on your behalf,” said Morgana.

“But aren’t those people too expensive?” said Arthur, frowning.

“Oh, sorry, Arthur, I forgot you were a third world country illegal immigrant living on less than minimum wage. I should watch my privilege,” Morgana deadpanned.

Leon snorted.

“Alright, fine!” said Arthur. “It’s just that I think it’s ridiculous to hire someone to do something you can do, that’s all...”

“And that’s why you’ve hired two cleaners for your house,” said Morgana.

Arthur kept his mouth shut this time. Maybe he was just worried about the wedding in general and didn’t know what to do about it.

“Don’t worry, love,” said Leon. “We’ll talk about it when I come back. We still have plenty of time, plus, we haven’t set a date...”

Arthur nodded and smiled, willing himself to calm down without much success. They were in the airport now, and he started to feel something akin to relief. Without Leon in sight, perhaps, he wouldn’t have to think of the wedding and how stressed it made him feel, even if they hadn’t even begun to plan it.

Arthur couldn’t linger. He had to rush back to go to the gym and then to the office, but he did get out of the car to kiss and hug Leon goodbye.

“Take care,” Leon whispered. “And don’t live only on instant noodles while I’m away...”

“I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself,” said Arthur. “I’ll show you I miss you by texting you every five minutes instead of compromising my intestines.”

Leon chuckled.

“You do that,” he added, and gave him another peck on the lips.

Morgana gave him a brief hug.

“Think about that wedding planner,” she said to his ear.

“Shut up,” he replied, annoyed. “Don’t go falling off the Brooklyn Bridge...”

She grinned.

“You wish.”

As they disappeared into the airport, Arthur got back onto the car and drove away.

*

Merlin was walking down the street with a goofy grin in his face, Chinese takeaway in one hand, and his stuffed bag in the other. He was supposed to be at the hospital – well, not really, no. It turned out there was a mistake with the timetable and Merlin could go home for thirty blissful hours, which he actually intended to spend in Daegal’s flat.

He hadn’t called him, he wanted to surprise him. He knew Daegal would be home, working on his thesis, but Daegal was a chronic procrastinator and he could do without a few hours of work to make space for his very busy boyfriend.

The concierge knew Merlin already, and he let him into the building without so much as a second glance. Merlin took the steps two at a time, instead of waiting for the elevator, to get to Daegal’s flat in the third floor. He didn’t have Daegal’s keys – they weren’t there yet, but they might get there soon, considering how nice things were progressing.

Merlin felt giddy and a little bit like he was fourteen years old again, as he rang the bell. He heard footsteps behind, and the door opened abruptly in front of his face.

“It was about time, we ordered that about 40 min – oh... you’re not the pizza delivery guy, are you? Sorry.”

There he was – a tall and strong guy, tanned, with dark hair, the kind of guys you see at gyms, and that Merlin saw running laps around the while he ate his lunch on a bench. The kind of guys who weren’t gangly, whose ears were the normal size, whose teeth weren’t like a horse’s and whose eyes were big and expressive, not the tiny little marbles Merlin always felt insecure about. And Merlin was able to appreciate his full anatomy – his strong arms, his perfect abs, his great, great legs, a couple of love bites, and the sex hair – because the man was wearing nothing but tight black boxers. Merlin just stared at him, confused for a moment. Perhaps he’d gotten the wrong flat.

In the end, it all happened really fast.

“Hey, is it the pizza? I told you I’d pay for – Merlin!”

Daegal appeared, wearing not much more than the other dude, and looked at Merlin as if he were a ghost.

“I-I didn’t know— This isn’t what you think.”

Merlin barked out something between a chuckle and a sob.

“Seriously?” he said.

“Hey D, what’s going on?” asked the other guy (Merlin was pretty sure he had earned that title, unless, of course, Merlin was the other guy and he didn’t even know), looking between Merlin and Daegal in confusion.

“Here,” said Merlin, shoving the take away bag at the guy. “No need to wait for the pizza. Have some Chinese. I brought your favourite, even,” he added, looking at Daegal, and turned to leave.

“Merlin, wait!” he said, grabbing Merlin’s elbow before he could leave. “Please let me explain...”

“Explain what?” he yelled. Normally, looking at Daegal after sex was nice. The way his hair was dishevelled, the way his skin was flushed, a scratch or two, a love bite. It was like Merlin’s hands were still touching him, even if he was across the room finding his pants to go grab a beer from the fridge. But at this very moment, looking at Daegal hurt. And Merlin realised, with anger and pain, that he had grown to care too much for the wrong person. “What are you going to explain to me, Daegal? It’s pretty easy to see that you just fucked this guy while you knew I was away in the hospital. So please let go of me and let this be the last we see of each other.”

“No, no, it’s not like that! It wasn’t like that! I didn’t mean for it to happen. Look, he’s just a friend, this really isn’t—”

“Oh god!” the guy exclaimed, and Merlin didn’t know if he was mortified or just bored. He didn’t care to find out. He could barely look at Daegal, let alone the other guy.

“Oh sure, I bet it was an accident. You didn’t plan to invite him over when you knew I wouldn’t be around, you didn’t plan to fuck him, you didn’t plan to ask him to stay and have dinner. Whatever, Daegal. Just let me go and don’t ever call me again.”

Merlin freed his arm from Daegal’s lax grip, and turned to leave. The last thing he saw was Daegal, gaping like a hungry fish. He thought he heard something like “I’m sorry,” but it was too faint, and Merlin’s ears were ringing.

He got out of the building as fast as his legs could take him.

*

Friends will be friends; except when they aren’t. Merlin called Lancelot from the taxi, one, two, three times, but he didn’t pick up. He then tried with Gwen. By the time he got home, hungry and drowning in a whirlpool of emotions, he’d sent them texts too, telling them that something bad had happened with Daegal and he could use some company (and pampering, but he didn’t include that).

They didn’t call him back nor returned his texts. It was weird, but then again, these two had a tendency to disappear from time to time. There was a happy thought, his two best friends spending quality time together while he mourned the foundations of a relationship that now would never come to be. He tried calling Will, but he didn’t pick up either. Probably too busy planning his fairy tale winter wedding to pay attention to his mobile.

With only a six-pack to keep him company, Merlin had some time to think, to feel sorry for himself, to feel all derivations of anger and pain at the same time, disappointment and grief. Yes, Daegal was the flirting type. He’d always known that, he even liked that about him; it made him seem playful, laid back, and reassured Merlin when no matter how many hot guys approached Daegal, he’d always go home with Merlin in the end.

Well, now he knew the truth. It wasn’t always.

Opening the second can of beer, Merlin wondered since when he’d become so insecure. He didn’t use to be like this. At least, things were different when he was with Edwin. While he was choking down the second half of his third beer, he considered calling Edwin. Gwen had said so, he’d broken up too. Luckily, the idea didn’t flourish in his head; it was washed away by the fourth beer. There was no good in calling Edwin; that was over, they hadn’t really stayed friends. You couldn’t really stay friends after such a relationship; you just had to let people go.

That was what he has to do with Daegal – let him go.

But the betrayal pierced his chest. Merlin fell asleep on the couch after the sixth beer, wishing he’d had a bottle of whiskey instead.

*

“Why are we in a cave?” Arthur asks, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he remembers. When Merlin’s feeling particularly down, he dreams of being chained in a cave, in the darkness, with only shadows projecting in the wall in front of him, and the light somewhere behind his back. Sometimes the shadows are menacing, sometimes they’re just shapes. Merlin’s chained, and he can’t move, and sometimes he can’t even talk so it’s up to Arthur to unchain him and ungag him.

He does it.

“What’s going on?” he asks, gently. Merlin looks at him with so much sadness in his eyes that Arthur can’t help but feel sad himself, and the cavern darkens, heavy rain falling outside.

“I didn’t think I would dream of you,” says Merlin, softly, looking away. He’s cold, and half naked, and Arthur would stop and stare, but he’s more worried about how cold it is, and suddenly Merlin’s covered in thick blankets.

“Well, neither did I. If you ask me, I was dreaming I was crossing the Brooklyn Bridge to meet my sister for tea when suddenly I was here. So, this is your dream, and it’s a bad one. What happened?”

Merlin shrugs. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“Come on, I know that look,” he says. “Spit it out.”

“Remember I was seeing someone?”

“Yeah,” says Arthur, and there’s alarm bells ringing in his head, and he hopes Merlin can’t hear them. “What about him?”

“He cheated,” says Merlin, and Arthur feels terrible, like he was the one someone cheated on.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” says Arthur. “Well, he’s a twat. He doesn’t know what he’s got and he certainly doesn’t deserve you.”

Merlin snorts.

“Yeah, well. I know that. Believe me, a good part of me knows that, but...” he sighs. “It still hurts.”

“Of course it would,” says Arthur. “Cheating is the worst.”

Merlin just looks at him.

“You know, I was excited about us. I thought... I really liked him. I was putting my heart into it. I thought that, for once, I was doing things the right way.”

Arthur twists his mouth in displeasure. Merlin can see his discomfort but he doesn’t know what to do. He knows by experience that Arthur isn’t the kind to know how to comfort someone when they’re in pain, but it isn’t like Merlin willingly brought him here. He just appeared, like he always does, without Merlin having any sort of control over it.

“It’s not your fault, you know,” says Arthur, and somehow the cave shifts a little, and Merlin isn’t resting against a harsh rock, but against soft and fluffy pillows. Arthur is under the covers, and he puts his arms around Merlin, and he feels warm and safe and okay, for a moment, just okay.

“I don’t know... I set my eye on the wrong person, again... I’m an idiot...”

Arthur presses a kiss to his temple.

“No, you’re not. You’re wonderful. But we all make mistakes, and that asshole made the mistake of hurting you.”

“I made the mistake of giving him the power of hurting me in the first place,” says Merlin.

“Why are you so harsh on yourself?” says Arthur. “It’s as if on top of suffering for being the victim here, you blame yourself for everything, as if you’d brought it on yourself.”

Merlin shrugs.

Arthur pulls him closer, engulfs him in his warmth, “You didn’t, you know? You’re perfectly fine. He’s the one who did you wrong.”

Merlin nods, and for a moment, he believes him.

*

Waking up without Leon is one thing, but waking up without Leon after a dream like that was quite an experience for Arthur. Like squared emptiness. His bed was warm and inviting, as it always felt for Arthur – not a morning person, after all – but it was just too big.

Arthur’s heart quickened and he was thrown into full awareness, as if startled, when he realised he didn’t know if he was missing Leon, or that guy he had dreamed of.

The panic didn’t go away during the day, not when he realised that he was thinking about the cave, about the dream, about the look of absolute dejection in the man’s eyes, rather than about how his fiancé was doing at the other side of the world. And what did it say about him, that he was worried about some random guy made up by his subconscious feeling bad, that he cared more about this, than about being away from his boyfriend? Well, he wasn’t that attached to Leon. He was, but he could survive, like Morgana said.

Arthur spent the day in daze and confusion, and that was probably the reason he agreed to change the contract terms of his star writer during the final negotiations. Annis almost killed him when she found out, but Arthur barely cared. He knew he could trust the man, and above that, all he could think about were his dreams. It was getting to the point when he was starting to get afraid of them. They were far too real, and not enough, and too much.

Yes, it was confusing, to say the least. It made Arthur feel a little crazy. He wondered if that psychiatrist who was friends with his dad had retired or if he was still around. He had treated his mother and Morgana, and they were alright now. Perhaps it was time for Arthur to start talking about things that mattered, with someone who could help.

*

Sometime during the night Merlin woke up and crawled into bed. It was his intention to remain there the whole day, as he only needed to show up at the hospital by midnight, but that plan was interrupted by the loud ringing of his mobile.

Groaning, he followed the sound until he found it, in his jeans pocket, on the floor.

He saw the caller ID and made a face. So _now_ she was available.

“Hello?” he answered, groggy and perhaps a little harsh.

“Merlin?”

“Who else?”

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“You did, but it’s fine,” he said. “I called you and Lancelot last night...”

“Yeah, I saw your texts. Is everything alright?”

Merlin sighed.

“No, not really. I caught Daegal cheating.”

“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry,” said Gwen, and she did sound sorry, but Merlin was in a foul mood and a bit resentful that they had left him to drown his sorrows in alcohol all by himself.

“It’ll be fine,” he said.

“I... I’m sorry I didn’t pick up your calls,” she said. “Something happened. Do you think you could meet me for lunch in the hospital?”

Merlin frowns. Gwen’s voice doesn’t exactly sound elated.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah...” she said. She hesitated a moment, and then she added, “Yeah.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you there. Are we going somewhere?”

“Just the hospital canteen, I’m afraid.”

“Ugh, why? I want pizza.”

“Because I can’t get out. Sorry.”

“Alright. I’ll see you there in an hour.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” she said.

“Yeah. No problem.”

*

When Merlin arrived at Gwen’s hospital, she was already in the canteen, toying with a styrofoam cup of coffee. She didn’t look much better than Merlin felt.

“Hey,” he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “What’s going on?”

“Let’s grab something to eat first...” she offered.

They made the line in silence. Merlin settled for an insipid burger, and once they were back in the table, Gwen looked dejectedly at her salad, playing with it instead of eating.

“Tell me,” said Merlin.

Gwen let out a sigh, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Lance is leaving.”

*

Merlin didn’t understand anything. As soon as he set foot outside the hospital, after having calmed Gwen down as best as he could, he called Lancelot.

“What the hell is going on?” he barked, when Lancelot answered.

“I take it you have spoken with Gwen now?” said Lancelot, sounding as calm as usual.

“Yes, I have. And I don’t understand anything!” Merlin yelled, “What is it with you? Why are you doing this all of a sudden? When exactly are you planning to tell me?”

“Merlin, I’m sorry. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while and I only made up my mind a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been negotiating with my agent and my publisher and—”

“I don’t care about your negotiations,” said Merlin. “I’d like to know why you only discussed this with Gwen when you’d made up your mind, as if she wasn’t part of your life.”

“Merlin,” Lancelot’s tone was both conciliatory and warning. This was none of Merlin’s business, apparently.

“Don’t ‘Merlin’ me!” he said. “I’m your best friend. When were you going to tell me? When you were about to leave for the airport? Or perhaps when you’d arrived in Chile?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure I’d do it.”

“Not even to Gwen!” said Merlin, and caught himself before he could recriminate Lancelot more than he had already did. He didn’t want to take sides. He knew that wasn’t right, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. “Never mind that,” he added, quickly. “Where are you?”

“Home. Well, Gwen’s flat. I stayed last night with a friend and I’m picking up my things now.”

“I’m coming over, so stay there.”

*

When he saw Lancelot’s face, Merlin felt a little bad for having been so harsh on him on the phone. But then again, what Lancelot had done was no little joke, and just because he looked sadder than a lost kitten in the rain, that didn’t mean Merlin had forgiven him. Yet.

On the tube, he had thought about a hundred things he could say to him, none of them very nice, but as soon as he saw him, all he wanted to do was give him a hug. So he did. Damn Lancelot. No matter what he did or didn’t, Merlin could never really stay angry with him for long.

“What happened?” Merlin asked him, once they were in the flat. It was a mess of boxes everywhere, Lancelot’s stuff piled up over tables, chairs and every available surface. Lancelot moved a box of books from a chair to the floor and made room for Merlin to sit down.

“What happened to you?” Lancelot asked. “I read your texts. I wanted to call you, but... Gwen sort of claimed the right to talk to you first.”

“Seriously?” Merlin said, and frowned.

Lancelot shrugged.

“Yeah...”

Merlin let out a sigh.

“It’s not that important. Not compared to you moving to the other side of the world all of a sudden.”

Lancelot winced.

“I’m sorry.”

Merlin gave him a pointed look, waiting for him to explain himself. After a brief pause, Lancelot spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I don’t feel alright here anymore, Merlin,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m stuck. Creatively speaking; and I feel like I don’t belong.”

“You don’t belong with Gwen? In this country? Where?”

“Everywhere...” Lancelot said. “I feel lost. I feel like I need to reconnect with my roots.”

“And so you’re going to a country where you’ve spent what... less than six months in total, in your entire life?” Merlin added.

Lancelot nodded.

“I’ve always wanted to live in Chile, Merlin. I loved it when I visited it, and I... I just want to try it.”

Merlin made a face.

“But Lance... are you sure about this? How is going away going to help you? Wouldn’t it be better to stay and face whatever it is that’s troubling you?”

“You think I’m running away,” Lancelot said, with a smile, as if he was expecting exactly this, as if he found it amusing.

“Well of course!”

Lancelot shook his head.

“It’s more complicated than that. I don’t think I can explain it in any satisfactory way. I just feel like I need to do this, that this is the right thing...”

“What about Gwen, though? You just broke up with her. Just like that, it’s not fair, you know...” said Merlin. Gwen was a mess, and Merlin couldn’t blame her. Compared to this, what Daegal had done to him seemed as terrible as leaving the toothpaste uncapped.

Lancelot opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, and looked away. There was so much sadness and shame in his expression that Merlin instantly knew that if his friend had any doubts about this trip, they were related to Gwen.

“I need to be on my own, Merlin,” he said, finally. “I love her. I love her with every fibre of my being. But if I go on like this, I won’t be a good partner for her anymore. I’d rather put some space between us than just ruin us completely.”

Merlin groaned.

“Lancelot, you’re breaking up with her. You are leaving her. Do you expect her to wait for you while you sort out whatever it is that you have in your head? I repeat – that’s not fair...” said Merlin.

“I don’t,” he said. “I let her go, Merlin. We spoke about this. It wasn’t pretty,” he added, quickly, and in spite of how composed he tried to be, Merlin was very used to reading him and knew that he was no less devastated than Gwen about this. “I just want her to be happy, and I can’t make her happy anymore. I’d rather leave, and sort out, as you say, whatever it is that I have in my head, and come back. If she’s free, and she wants to see me again, then I’ll try to approach her. If she doesn’t, well...” Lancelot shrugged, “then I lose her forever.”

“You say it as if she was some kind of fling and not the woman you told me you wanted to marry! The woman you expected to grow old with, have children with!”

“Yes,” his friend said, never meeting Merlin’s eyes. “And believe me, Merlin, I am fully aware of what I’m doing. But if I stay, I lose both her and myself, and I’ll make her unhappy anyway.”

“And you just decided this on your own, without telling her,” said Merlin. “That’s—”

“Merlin, please,” said Lancelot. “I already have enough doubts and fears about this, and I already feel guilty and frankly, quite devastated at the possibility of losing the love of my life. I don’t need to hear any more recriminations Not from you, please.”

Merlin looked at him. He realised then how awkward it was, him sitting on a table chair and Lancelot on the floor, by his side, looking broken and desperate for anything that would fix him. How didn’t Merlin notice before?

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything,” said Lancelot. “That was selfish and shitty. No. Well, I am sorry I did something that hurt you, but I hope you understand that I had to do it on my own and for myself.”

Merlin thought about it for a second, and then finally gave in.

“I know,” he said. “I’m just really confused and sad and a little bit angry with you at this moment.”

“I didn’t expect any less, and I understand,” said Lancelot.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“You know, for being such a nice person, you can really be a big twat sometimes.”

Lancelot smiled.

“Nobody is perfect...”

“...say people who think they almost are,” Merlin completed, with a smirk. This was better. Familiar, comfortable.

“What about you?” Lancelot asked, after a brief pause. “What happened with Daegal?”

Merlin groaned.

“The big arsehole was cheating on me! Can you believe that!” said Merlin, infuriated, “I was—Argh! What a bastard! Look, there was a mistake with the timetable at the hospital and I had 30 hours free, so I went to his place, I even brought his favourite food! And then some ridiculously hot and half-naked guy opened the door and... everything went downwards from there,” said Merlin.

“I’m sorry,” Lancelot looked genuinely so, which Merlin appreciated. It made him a little less angry with his friend about the whole leaving-to-find-himself thing.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Merlin. “It’s over now. I’m just glad I realised early on and not before I’d fallen for him... I mean, I really liked him, I had great expectations and all that jazz, but... last night, somewhere between the fifth and the sixth beer I realised that what I was mourning wasn’t what we had but what I expected us to be like, so...” Merlin shrugged, “I guess there’s no loss there.”

Lancelot just looked at him.

“You’re taking it really well,” he said.

Merlin grinned.

“Well, honestly, you moving to the other side of the world is much more heartbreaking for me.”

Lancelot winced.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine, Lancelot,” Merlin said, and slid off the chair to sit on the floor next to him. “I mean if you say this is what you’ve got to do... well, honestly, I don’t believe you, and I don’t agree, but if you want to do this, then I’ll support you. Just like when you quit being the hottest barman at Blush for that boring coffee shop...”

“It was seriously messing up with my sleeping schedule!” said Lancelot, and chuckled.

“Lance, you got the best tips. The best! And you got me free drinks. It was the worst decision you’ve made career-wise, honestly.”

“Well, soon after that you stopped going out that much, so...”

“Don’t make excuses, Lancelot!” said Merlin, faking outrage. “I was just so close to getting Valiant’s number!”

“Valiant wasn’t for you, Merlin,” said Lancelot, in the same infuriating, know-it-all tone one Gaius, Merlin’s mentor, used when talking to him. “He was a big twat who never stayed for spooning nor called back.”

Merlin made a face.

“I didn’t want to marry him.”

“Yes, you did,” said Lancelot, with a fond grin. “You had a horrible tendency to idolise guys and relationships.”

Merlin glared.

“I don’t need you to remind me of that.”

Lancelot raised his hands in a gesture of appease.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that... it feel ages have passed since then.”

“Ugh, not again!” said Merlin. “I don’t want any more old-man talks with my mates. It’s not like our prime has passed, we always have the rest of our lives ahead of us!”

Lancelot chuckled.

“I will use that as the epigraph for my new novel,” he said.

“Hey! Don’t mock my wisdom! I bet that epigraph will make you millions, and you’ll have to pay me!” Merlin protested. “Now, wait a minute, what about that? Didn’t you have a super strict contract?” he added, frowning. “The first draft of your novel by January, right?”

Lancelot smiled.

“I’ve got a terrific agent who trusts me way more than she should, and my editor was agreeable because I told him I’d hand him the translation of the novel by March. So it was only a few months delay, and—”

“Translation?”

“I’m writing my first novel in Spanish,” Lancelot said, with a big grin.

“Oh... well, that’s a change, I guess...” said Merlin, not understanding what the big deal about it was. Except, of course, for the vague idea of the copyright or publishing mess that it’s going to cause.

“It’s a great change, and it feels so right, Merlin,” he said.

Merlin smiled at him.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do without you?” he said, feeling completely sad, and was engulfed in a big bear hug.

“I don’t know. We’ll make do, Merlin. I’ll call you as often as I can and—”

“It’s not the same!” he whined. “I’ll miss you like I’d miss a limb, Lance. This isn’t fair. Can you stay and find yourself here? Can’t things go back to the way they were?”

Lancelot squeezed him just a little bit harder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

*

In the following days, Lancelot moved temporarily to Merlin’s place. He also left a few boxes there in storage, and shipped only the essentials to Chile. Merlin liked living with Lancelot, even if it was only for a little while and he was away most of the time. It was nice coming home to someone, especially a friend who was busy but grateful, and was a relatively good cook. (‘Relatively’ because compared to Merlin, no one was a good cook. Except for professionals and Merlin’s mother.)

In less than two weeks, Merlin was using his free day to accompany Lancelot to Camelot City International Airport, and say his goodbyes to him. Lancelot had already gotten his boarding pass and had already checked in his luggage, but he was sitting with Merlin, waiting until the last reasonable moment before entering the restricted area.

“You know,” said Merlin, “there’s something I always wanted to tell you when we were drunk but I never dared. I feared you’d thought I was crazy. But honestly, with what you’re doing right now, mine seems like the sanest thing you’ll ever hear.”

Lancelot raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take it you’ll tell me now...”

“Yes,” said Merlin, and very purposefully avoided eye contact for the rest of the conversation. “Look, there’s some guy I dream about. I’ve dreamed about him since I was a little boy, and I think I may have feelings for him, I don’t know,” said Merlin. He leaned forward in the chair, and buried his face in his hand. His voice came out muffled. “This isn’t someone I know, a person I’ve met. It’s just some guy I meet in dreams, someone I’ve known my whole life. And I wanted to tell you because I’ve never told anyone this, and sometimes I think it’s real, and I think I’m going crazy.”

Lancelot’s tone was lack in judgment and full of understanding as he spoke next. “So, this bloke you dream of... is he like some kind of male ideal you've built subconsciously?"

Merlin shrugged.

“I think it’s something like that. But he’s... too real, Lance. Sometimes I feel like he’s real. He's grown up with me, and... When I wake up, sometimes, for a moment, I think he’s real and that he’s out there somewhere and that I just have to find him. Like I just hang up the phone on him. That we meet in dreams because we're destined or something.” Merlin chuckled, sadly. “But of course that’s ridiculous.”

Lancelot stayed silent for what were the most mortifying fifteen seconds of Merlin’s life.

“I’ve read a story like that once,” he said. “It’s called ‘Ojos de perro azul’ by Gabriel García Márquez—”

Merlin groaned.

“No, no, bear with me,” Lancelot said, with a chuckle.

“I don’t want a lecture on Latin American literature, Lance, I just want to share a secret with my best friend before he leaves to be Bilbo Baggins...” said Merlin, sulkily.

“Well,” said Lance, and Merlin could almost hear the smile on his face, as he completely ignored Merlin’s complain to just go on talking. “In that story, two lovers meet only in dreams. And everywhere she goes, she writes down _ojos de perro azul_ , which means ‘blue dog eyes.’ But they can never meet, because he’s doomed to never remember his dreams.”

Then Merlin turned to glare at him.

“That’s very encouraging,” he said, and then he caught himself. “No, I mean... If he were real.”

“Merlin, that’s not healthy,” said Lancelot. “Why are you holding on to some ideal when there are a bunch of guys out there who like you?” he said. “I don’t understand it.”

Merlin shrugged.

“Me neither. And there aren’t a bunch of guys out there who like me. I mean, remember Daegal? He liked that hunky friend of his better...”

Lancelot shook his head.

“That’s his problem, not yours. Seriously, Merlin. I mean... I don’t know if this guy you dream about is real or if he is the fantasy of a perfect guy for you, but whatever it is... you need to stop belittling yourself. It was Daegal’s loss.”

“I know that, Lance,” Merlin said. “I have a healthy dose of self-esteem.”

“Yes, but are you happy with that?” Lancelot interrupted. “I want you to be happy. With or without Daegal, or this bloke from your dreams...”

Merlin lowered his eyes, and let out a sigh. The gesture was melodramatic, but he couldn’t help it.

“Please, Merlin. Promise you’ll try to be happy.”

Merlin looked up at him.

“Will you try to be happy?”

“Yes.”

“Then we have a deal,” Merlin said and beamed.

*

Two weeks of hell, and Arthur was exhausted. But thank goodness, it was Friday tomorrow, and Leon would arrive in the evening. Well, Arthur had been looking forward to picking up Leon and Morgana from the airport, drop his sister off at her flat, and then spend the rest of the night showing his fiancé just how much and how bad he had missed him.

But of course, the stupid plane was delayed, and Leon would be arriving in the early morning instead of the early evening. He called Arthur to let him know and tell him that he and Morgana would take a taxi so he could sleep instead.

Arthur was lonely and morose when he went to sleep. He had missed Leon very badly, and at the same time he was mortified by thoughts of the wedding at every moment. It was like he couldn’t even revel on happy thoughts about seeing Leon soon without a devil whispering at his ear that yeah, the vague date of the wedding was also getting closer and things were about to get real.

He hated having these paradoxical feelings. But at least he hadn’t been dreaming about the guy in these past few days — that would’ve added a whole new level of confusion to it. Right now, after having dinner by himself for two weeks, food entirely prepared by his cleaners and none by Leon, Arthur just wanted to go to bed and wake up with Leon by his side – which was pretty much the plan for the night.

He went to bed, wearing his engagement ring in a sappy attempt to feel connected to Leon, and fell fast asleep.

*

“Whoa, what the hell is going on here?” asks Merlin, suddenly finding himself in front of Arthur, who is running slow-motion. Behind Arthur, something’s coming, a vague but menacing shadow.

“Run!”

“But why?” asks Merlin. “There’s nothing behind you. Plus, you look ridiculous,” he adds, with a smirk, but Arthur looks terrified, so Merlin stops him as soon as he reaches him (that took a lot more than it should have, even considering the slow-mo dream running), grabbing his arms. “Hey, hey, relax. There’s really nothing there...” he says, and points behind Arthur’s ear.

Arthur turns around, and finds that yes, there’s nothing there. Just some kind of park or garden of a city, and there’s not even people there. It’s all quiet and still, and so peaceful.

“I see,” he says. “But I swear something was chasing me, I was... It was a nightmare, I guess.”

Merlin nods, and shrugs.

“But it’s gone now, so no worries. How have you been anyway?” he asks.

“Me? Lonely,” says Arthur. “My fiancé is... he’s... I don’t know, exactly, but he’s not around and I miss him.”

“Ah,” says Merlin, and makes a face. “Well, you haven’t broken up or anything, right? You’re still carrying the engagement ring...”

Arthur lifts his left hand and looks at it.

“We’re together, yes,” he says, though he seems a bit lost, dizzy.

“That’s a nice ring. Looks expensive,” Merlin says.

“I have no idea,” says Arthur, and he really doesn’t. He’s vaguely aware that he was the one that put the ring on his fiancé’s finger, but he doesn’t know who bought them.

Merlin grabs his hand, and smiles cheekily.

“You’ve got chubby fingers,” he says.

“What! Are you saying I’m fat?”

“It’s not like being fat is a fate worse than—”

“I’m not fat!”

Merlin laughs, and says, “I never said you were! Just that your fingers are chubby. Look, compare them to mine...”

They pressed their palms together—Arthur’s left to Merlin’s right. Merlin’s fingers were a bit twisted, definitely more slender and longer.

“You look like you could play the piano,” said Arthur.

“I can do a lot of things with my hands, but playing a musical instrument isn’t one of them. Of that, I’m sure,” says Merlin, and he’s eyeing Arthur’s ring with interest. “Do you mind if I try it on? I think I could fit it in my thumb.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Arthur, frowning, but he’s already slipping the ring off his finger and passing it on to Merlin.

Merlin grins, as he puts the finger on his index, and it fits perfectly well.

“So what?” says Arthur, “You’ve got girly fingers!”

Merlin laughs.

“What’s wrong with girly fingers? What’s wrong with anything girly!”

Arthur is about to say something about Merlin sounding like one of his sisters, but he can’t. Suddenly, everything’s vanishing, and Merlin finds himself in his old school library, which is empty except for Will, sitting in a chair nearby, engrossed while reading what looks like a gigantic atlas.

*

Arthur woke up abruptly, the moment he felt someone collapse on top of him.

“What the fuck?” he groaned, startled and annoyed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s me,” said Leon, “I didn’t want to wake you up and I ended up tripping with the bloody carpet...” he muttered.

Now Arthur was fully awake.

“You’re back!” he said, and smiled. The light in the bathroom was on, just a line of fluorescent white through the ajar door, and Leon was still fully clothed, coat and everything.

Once he was on his feet again, Arthur tugged at his coat and made him lean over him, and they kissed slow, sweet.

“You’ve got terrible breath,” said Leon, with a chuckle.

“I missed you too,” said Arthur. “Now get in the bed so I can show you how much.”

Leon chuckled again.

“I’m afraid all I can take right now is some cuddling, love. It’s 3 a. m. and I’m knackered.”

“Oh god, I need to be up in two and a half hours,” said Arthur, and groaned. “Why did you wake me up?”

Leon kissed him again, and Arthur hand his fingers through his hair. He’d missed that too.

“Go back to sleep,” Leon muttered, softly, and Arthur complied.

*

At first, Merlin didn’t notice it. He woke up, his alarm clock blasting from the other side of the room. Grumpily, he got out of bed and turned it off. He took a deep breath, and wasted no time. He slipped into the bathroom, and then he noticed it. The ring, on his left hand. He stared at it, drowsy and confused.

Then he remembered the dream, and freaked out.

*

He didn’t make an appointment to see Dr. Kilgharrah. He knew the old man was always at the office and always available for visitors. That is, if he wasn’t with a patient, but he usually saw them in the afternoons and evenings, so Merlin rushed down the hallway, walking as fast as he could so it wouldn’t be running (it was, after all, forbidden to run in hospitals). Kilgharrah’s secretary wasn’t in yet. It wasn’t 8 a. m. yet, but Merlin knew the old man was usually in by seven thirty, so he simply knocked on the door.

There were voices inside, that instantly quieted at Merlin’s interruption.

He heard someone mumbling something, and then the sound of a chair sliding on the floor, footsteps, and Dr. Kilgharrah opened the door. His thick eyebrows rose when he saw Merlin.

“If it isn’t young Mr. Emrys!” he said, and smiled. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello,” Merlin said, nodding, almost bowing. The old man was much shorter than him, but Merlin always felt very, very small in his presence. He had taken Merlin under his wing when he first started med school, pretty much like Gaius, even if both doctors were in opposite spectrums of psychiatric research. In the end, Merlin inclined more for Gaius’ line, but this was something Gaius was going to dismiss and Kilgharrah would be delighted to hear. “I’m sorry to bother you so early; I hope you’re not busy...”

Kilgharrah smiled, and opened the door further. Sitting across from his chair was a young man. He seemed in his early twenties, with curly brown hair and big blue eyes.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Oh, um, hi,” said Merlin. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said the boy, but his smile turned a bit strained.

“It’s alright,” said Kilgharrah. “Mordred was leaving anyway...”

“Yeah,” he said, and stood up, grabbing a satchel from the other chair.

“I’ll see you next week, then,” said Kilgharrah.

“Thanks a lot,” Mordred responded, walking towards the exit. Then, he turned to Merlin, who was still outside and added, “And it’s nice to meet you, Merlin.”

He offered his hand for Merlin to shake. Merlin took it, and muttered a half-hearted “likewise,” before his brain caught up.

“Hey, wait, how do you know my name?”

“Oh, I’ve heard a lot about you from Dr. Kilgharrah here,” he said, and smiled a crooked smile that left Merlin with a creepy feeling. Maybe it was just his nerves.

“Oh, okay,” Merlin said, and forced himself to return the gesture.

“I’ll see you around then,” said Mordred, vaguely.

Kilgharrah bidded him goodbye and ushered Merlin inside. Merlin took the other seat, the one where Mordred’s satchel had been resting, rather than the one where he’d been seated.

“What’s with that guy?” he asked.

“Um?” asked Kilgharrah. “I don’t understand...”

“Why have you talked to me about him?” he asked, frowning. He didn’t know why, but he found it unnerving, to say the least.

“Oh...” Kilgharrah shrugged. “He was struggling to decide between psychiatry and neurology. I gave him some example of researches and students so he’d pick one. But don’t get jealous, you’ll always be my favourite student.”

Merlin glared.

“Really?” he said, ignoring the joke. “There’s something odd about him... Like he knows more than he lets on.”

To think about it, that was always how Kilgharrah behaved, too. When he was a young, impressionable undergrad, his enigmatic character had charmed Merlin and made him believe the old doctor was some kind of guru in disguise, a guru that some divine hand had put in Merlin’s path to teach him anything he needed to know not only about human minds and hearts, but life in general. As he grew older and got closer to Gaius, he figured the old man was kind of a fraud, but somehow always right.

Merlin twisted his mind in displeasure. Maybe it hadn’t been right to come here anyway.

“Well, you’re right about that,” Kilgharrah said, after a pause. “Mordred is incredibly clever and talented, and he’s got a good eye for a person’s spirit...”

 _Spirit_. Damn Jungians.

“I’m sure he’ll be a good therapist,” said Merlin, with a shrug.

Kilgharrah grinned.

“He chose neurology. But he still comes here every so often for advice or just a little chat,” he said. He leaned forward on his desk, resting his hands, palms down, on it, as if he was bracing himself to jump out of his chair and start running. It had taken Merlin a few visits to get used to it, but this was Kilgharrah’s gesture equivalent to Frasier’s “Hello, Merlin. I’m listening.”

Merlin’s lips remained tight shut, and he fidgeted in his chair.

“What brings you here?” asked Kilgharrah, finally, and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have all day, you know?”

“Sorry,” said Merlin.

The morning light came through the shades, but the office was still dim, it felt dusty and old. Timeless. That was one of the things Gaius criticised about Kilgharrah. That he seemed trapped decades ago in psychoanalysis, with researches that contributed little to nothing to the advancement of psychiatry. But he gave good results in therapy, and Alice, the hospital director, kept him there at least because of that.

“Emrys?” asked Kilgharrah.

“Sorry,” said Merlin. “Um... I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning would be a good point.”

“No! That’s not... It’s a very long story.”

“Are you going to talk to me about your parents?” asked Kilgharrah, with a sardonic smile.

Merlin frowned.

“No! It’s about my dreams...”

“Oh my,” said Kilgharrah. “Could it be that you’re straying from the true path of science?”

“Stop mocking me and listen, alright!” he said, exasperated. Kilgharrah’s smile only widened, but he remained silent as Merlin told him everything. How he’d dreamed of this boy when he was a kid, how they somehow grown up together, and knew a lot of things about each other, except for any particular detail that could make them find each other in real life — and at that, Merlin had to stop, and fumble with his words “I mean, not that he exists or anything, he’s just someone I dream of... but you know, identity details, like name, or where does he live, and I can’t tell him mine either, and... the dreams are very vivid, you know?”— He went on to tell him that it sometimes felt like they were in a relationship. In for a penny, in for a dime. He trusted Kilgharrah to keep his secret. And he also told him about how things have been in the past few months after Merlin’s breakup with Edwin and the man’s engagement.

“He got engaged?” asked Kilgharrah, frowning. He shifted his position, his elbows resting on the desk and his mouth covered by his joined hands.

“Yes! I... Last night I dreamed of him again. And I asked him, just for fun, you know, if I could try on his ring.”

Kilgharrah grunted and nodded, edging Merlin to go on.

“And, well...”

Merlin fished the ring out of his pocket and left it on the desk, as if it burned him.

“I woke up wearing it.”

Kilgharrah stared at it with a deep frown burrowing his features. To Merlin, he’d always looked the same, but Merlin still had a picture his mother had taken in his graduation day, with Kilgharrah on one side and Gaius on the other. In comparison, the real Kilgharrah looked much, much older.

“Well, this is interesting,” he said. He shifted, and leaned back on his chair.

“To say the least,” Merlin deadpanned.

Kilgharrah smiled again.

“And you brought this to me because...?”

“Because... you study all sort of weird stuff,” said Merlin. “I thought maybe, just maybe, you’d know about such... phenomena. If they’ve happened before, that is.”

Kilgharrah raise an eyebrow.

“Well,” he said, after a while. “This may or may not have happened before.”

Merlin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes and groaning out loud.

“So...” he said, tentatively.

“Well, what do you want me to say? You haven’t even asked me a question, you just told me a story that may or may not be true.”

“It is the truth!” said Merlin, starting to get exasperated. “And I know I’m not going insane because there’s no way I cannot fool myself into thinking I got this ring from a dream, let alone afford to buy it.”

“Maybe you stole it,” said Kilgharrah. “It does look expensive. Probably... Yes, pure gold. Very nice indeed,” he muttered, as if to himself, after picking up the ring and giving it a closer look. He was starting to look like Gollum.

“Anyway!” said Merlin. “Do you have any idea of how something like that could’ve happen? Because it’s absolutely impossible for things from dreams to materialise in real life, in vigil...” he said.

Kilgharrah twirled the ring in his fingers for a few more moments, before putting it back on the desk and sliding it towards Merlin.

“It might be possible. We just don’t know for sure.”

“And... have you performed experiments, do you have any literature on the matter?” he asked.

Kilgharrah shrugged. He stood up from his chair and walked to one of his dusty (or perhaps, not so dusty) bookcases. He fished out one set of photocopies in a spiral bind.

“Here,” he said. “That may help you a bit.”

Merlin opened the book. It’d been written in 1919.

“Seriously?” he said, frowning. “How is this going to help me?”

“Well, nobody ever took it seriously,” said Kilgharrah, with a shrug. “But I’ve found it useful, sometimes, in therapy.”

“But... I’m not here for therapy,” said Merlin, and he internally winced. He sounded like a brat, and he didn’t want Kilgharrah to think he was that ungrateful.

“I know that,” he said, but he was smiling, as he absentmindedly inspected a little cactus he had by the window. “But you’ve got questions you can’t even formulate. How can you expect me to answer them? Read that, and maybe you’ll find your way,” he said, with a shrug.

“Thank you,” said Merlin, and he meant it. It made sense. There was no way Kilgharrah would suddenly open the door to a world of magic or something like that, to have a fantastical or scientific explanation about what had happened to Merlin. It was never that easy. “I’ll read it and return it to you as soon as possible.”

“Take your time,” said Kilgharrah. “I don’t need it soon.”

Merlin smiled.

“Thank you,” he said. “Um, I should get going. My break is over.”

“You should have something to eat.”

“Yeah, I... I might get something from the vending machine.”

“Tsk, tsk...” said Kilgharrah, shaking his head and smiling. “You know crisps and Coke aren’t a real breakfast, right?”

“You sound like my mother...”

“And you sound like an undergrad. Good. It’s good to keep your spirit young. Though your body might not follow through...” he said, and he looked out of the window, with a strange gleam in his eyes.

“Er, right. Well, thanks for the book,” said Merlin, standing up. “I’ll see you soon.”

*

“Are you free for lunch today?” Morgause said, at the other end of the line, as soon as Arthur picked up.

“Uh... yeah?” said Arthur.

“What about Leon?”

“I think so.”

“Would you guys like to have lunch with me and Mordred? We have some free time and we’ll be there in... an hour or so. We can go to that cute café two blocks down from your office; I heard they make great sandwiches.”

“Er...”

 _How about no?_ Arthur wanted to say. He didn’t know why Morgause was doing this. First of all, she didn’t seem to like Leon much. Well, she liked him alright, but she didn’t seem to like the fact that he was marrying Arthur, for some unfathomable reason. She’d been all weird and more sinister than usual at dinners, and with her boyfriend by her side, she seemed to go insufferable. Besides, they hadn’t exactly spent much time together for the last few months, ever since she came back from Paris, so what was the point?

“Morgana is coming too,” said Morgause. “So...”

“I’ll call Leon to see if he can make it, but count me in,” said Arthur, and tried not to sound too reluctant. He hoped Morgause wasn’t planning some kind of embarrassing, public ambush.

“Good,” said Morgause. “I’ll see you there in an hour.”

And an hour it was. Arthur was right on time, and he found Morgause and her gigoló already there. Morgana arrived right behind him, and Arthur fidgeted in his chair, wondering if there was just too much traffic or no way to park or if it’d been ridiculous to ask Leon to come anyway.

“Why didn’t you and Leon come together?” asked Morgause, to Morgana, with a frown. “You work at the same building.”

“Oh, he was somewhere else, meeting a client.”

“Did you think it will take long?” asked Arthur, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh?” Morgana looked at him, confused. “No, I don’t know. I mean. I figure if he thought he wouldn’t make it, he’d said so, right?”

“Yeah,” said Arthur, with a shrug, and turned to the menu as if nothing was wrong. He hated this feeling of inadequacy, of not knowing enough, and his leg started to jiggle.

They all checked the menu and decided what kind of sandwich they wanted, but agreed to wait until Leon arrived before ordering. Morgana sipped on the complimentary water, while Morgause was engulfing a huge glass of Diet Coke. Mordred and Arthur both ordered espressos, just to start.

“So, Mordred...” said Arthur, turning his attention to the boy, who looked at him with eyes wide. There was something slightly unnerving about the inquisitive way he looked at Arthur, but the sensation was familiar. “How’s... school or hospital or... um, what is it that you do?”

“I’m training to become a neurologist. I’m in my first year of residency...” he said, and smiled.

“That’s... good,” he said.

“Arthur, you’re terrible at small talk,” said Morgana. “One would think you’re trying to woo him...”

“Hey!” said Morgause and Arthur at the same time, and Mordred just looked at the younger sister, blushing and perhaps a little bit mortified.

“What” said Morgana. “I’m just acknowledging the awkwardness here. Now we’re past that, we can talk about something important.”

“Like what?” asked Arthur. “Your new haircut?”

“So you noticed,” said Morgana, with a smirk.

“You have a new haircut?” asked Morgause, frowning. “You are kidding, right?”

“I’m so grateful for you, Arthur,” said Morgana, with a sigh. “You’re the sister I never had.”

“Of course,” said Morgause rolling her eyes. “What would you do without him to notice the barely noticeable changes in your hair.”

“She’d probably stare at her own reflection in the mirror all day,” said Arthur.

“She’d end up petrified like Medusa,” added Morgause. “Or dead like Narcissus.”

Mordred just looked at all of them, seeming a bit lost.

“Ha bloody ha,” said Morgana, pouting.

“What’s so funny?” asked Leon, appearing right behind Arthur and startling everyone. Everyone besides Mordred, because even Morgause jumped a little bit in her seat.

“That Morgana is vain,” said Morgause, standing up. She kissed Leon on the cheek. “And that you are late.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, as he shook Mordred’s hand. “I couldn’t find a parking spot...”

“Thought so,” said Arthur, offering a soft smile. Leon kissed him, quickly, and waved awkwardly at Morgana.

“Hello again,” he said.

“Yeah... you know, I see you at work, I see you everywhere. You’re starting to become as common in my life as dad,” said Morgana. “I demand you put me on your will.”

“Wow,” said Leon, and took a seat next to Arthur. “Don’t go killing me off so fast, I still need to marry your brother.”

“Speaking of marriage,” said Morgause. “Is there a date set already? Because wedding season is pretty much over, normal people tell me, and you guys haven’t said anything.”

“We’d thought March but...” said Leon, unsure.

“We haven’t decided yet,” said Arthur.

“March is too far, hurry up,” said Morgana. “I bought a dress in Milan that would be perfect for a wedding, and if you don’t get married quickly, I’ll end up using it to attend some random thing.”

Arthur felt tense. The tone was light, but they were right... they needed to start planning stuff. A wedding by the sea would be nice, but that would be ridiculous.

“Just go to Vegas,” said Morgause.

“We can’t get married in Vegas,” said Arthur, frowning.

“Oh... right,” said Morgause, and she made a face. “Well, look at the bright side, you wouldn’t be marrying at the tackiest place ever. Just somewhere tacky.”

“Why do you assume their wedding will be tacky?” asked Mordred, with a chuckle, bumping into the conversation out of the blue.

“Because Arthur’s tacky,” said Morgana. “Sorry, Leon, you’ll have to deal with that.”

Leon laughed.

“What are you guys even talking about?”

He took Arthur’s left hand under the table. Arthur tensed as Leon’s thumb slipped over his ringless finger.

“I bet he wants a wedding by the sea,” said Morgause. “With... wisterias in an arch and everything.”

“Is that considered tacky?” asked Mordred, smiling at her.

“I don’t know,” said Morgause. “But it’s cheesy. Like something from a rom com.”

“And you have a speciality on rom coms,” said Arthur, glaring at her.

“Oh do you?” asked Mordred, looking at Morgause with a mischievous glint in his eye, like he was going to tease her nonstop. That gained the kid some points in Arthur’s book.

“Hey, I like movies...” she defended herself.

“Those aren’t movies, that is... poop pretending to be movies,” said Arthur. .

“Poop? Really, Arthur?” said Morgana, chuckling.

“Oh, come on!” said Morgause. “Rom coms are fun to watch to discover patterns, archetypes, delusions—”

“Yeah, right,” said Arthur. “Do you want me to tell Mordred about your Bridget Jones phase?”

Morgause blushed.

“I was in high school!” she said.

“So was I. And I wasn’t watching that...”

“Of course not, you were watching something with lots of hunky, sweaty men,” she said, and turned to Mordred. “He likes action films. Like, he had a poster of Bruce Willis in his room.”

“He’s a cool guy,” said Mordred. “Though I think the greatest BAMF of all time is Clint Eastwood...”

“What is a BAMF?” asked Morgana.

“Badass motherfucker,” Leon supplied. “Internet jargon.”

“Clint Eastwood is old...” Arthur complained.

“So?” said Mordred, with a shrug. “He could give Machete a run for his money.”

“Oh god, not Machete again,” said Morgause, rolling her eyes.

“It’s a good movie...” said Mordred, defensively.

“It’s sexist shit! It totally misses the point and—”

“I dare say any movie that has Lindsay Lohan dressed as a nun is worth watching.”

“Oh my god, you’re a total pervert,” said Morgause laughing, but she didn’t seem grossed out at all.

Mordred didn’t say anything; he simply looked at her and smiled his sideways smile.

And then the waitress interrupted them. They all ordered their fabulous (adjective provided by Morgause) sandwiches, and kept on talking of everything and nothing. Luckily for Arthur, they didn’t mention the wedding again, and the hour passed by quickly. Soon enough, they were saying their goodbyes by the door. Leon and Arthur kissed, and Leon rushed because his parking meter time was over, and Morgana followed him, walking slow and steady in her stilettos. Morgause kissed Arthur on the cheek and whispered on his ear to stop staring at her boyfriend.

Before Arthur could retaliate, he had to say his goodbyes to Mordred. They shook hands by the entry of the café, Mordred saying goodbye with his eyes nailed to Arthur’s, and then Arthur was able to point out exactly what he found about the boy that could be unnerving. He looked at you. He really, really looked at you, not just pretended to. He was paying attention. In that sense, he was just like Morgause. All nasty feelings Arthur could’ve been harbouring toward Mordred faded with this realisation, and he went back to work feeling like he possibly, maybe, had made a new friend.

*

Gwen opened the door with a big smile on her face, but it was easy to notice the circles under her eyes, which looked tired and sad.

“Hello,” she said, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Merlin hadn’t seen her once since before Lancelot left. “Come in.”

Merlin rushed into the flat, and was instantly surprised at how empty it looked without Lancelot’s stuff in it. He knew that was to be expected, he’d even helped Lancelot with some of his stuff, and the same thing had happened to him less than a year ago, with Edwin... But it still took him by surprise. He particularly missed the books, and some pictures of Lance and Gwen’s holidays, and a beautiful poster of one of Degass’ ballerina pictures that Lancelot had bought a year ago, when he was taken to the States to promote his book in New York City and other places.

“Would you say something? You look like somebody punched you in the face,” said Gwen, but she couldn’t hide her sadness behind her cheerful tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s just... yeah...” he added, rather eloquently.

Gwen sighed.

“Let’s not talk about it, please?” she said, and bit her lip for a moment. “I’m thinking about it all the time. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright,” said Merlin, and forced himself to cheer up a little bit, for her sake. “So what do you wanna watch?”

He dropped on the sofa, and fished out a bag of vinegar crisps out of his satchel.

“Something scary...” said Gwen.

“Oh no,” said Merlin, shaking his head, “I won’t be able to sleep at night and I’ve gotta be up before five tomorrow.”

“So do I. We should turn this into a pyjama party,” said Gwen, from the kitchenette. Merlin heard her opening cabinets and the fridge, and soon she was back with two cans of soda and the crisps in a bowl. “It wouldn’t be the first time to show up to work or school after a night of partying...” she said, with a giggle, and it brought bad good memories of their years at med school.

“Yeah, but that was uni... this feels like we’re reversing to secondary school or something,” he said, and grabbed a crisp form the bowl.

“Speaking of that,” she said, pointing at his chest. “Are you going through one of your _Lord of the Rings_ phases again?”

“Oh...” said Merlin, grabbing at the engagement ring that hung from his neck in a thin silver chain. “No, this is... This isn’t mine.”

“You look like a widow,” she said, and she grabbed the remote to turn on the telly.

“No, I. Um...”

“What is it, Merlin?”

She turned to look at him with a look of concern in her eyes.

“This isn’t mine,” he said. “I found it. And since... well, I figured the person to whom it belongs would want it back, but there’s no way to find them, so...”

“So you just go around wearing it on your neck, hoping someone will see it and say ‘Hey, my precious!’?”

Merlin chuckled.

“Yeah, basically...”

“Where did you find it?”

“Um... outside my building,” he lied.

Gwen frowned.

“Right.”

“Yeah, um... if you hear someone talking about losing a ring, let them know I have it!”

Gwen laughed.

“You’re the only person I know who would do that...” she said, shaking her head as if Merlin was some kind of hopeless case. “Why didn’t you just turn it to a lost and found office or something?”

Merlin shrugged.

“I don’t think that’s going to work...” Merlin said. “And come on, let’s find that scary film you wanna watch before it gets more late,” he added, hoping to change the topic before Gwen could ask him more questions.

*

The next morning, Merlin was terribly sleepy and drained. The movie had been disturbing, and Gwen hadn’t kept him long after it ended. She too needed to be up early, after all, but that didn’t make Merlin feel any reassured. He hoped she had someone to talk to, someone to vent with, because otherwise she’d be just bottling it all up. And Merlin didn’t really need to be a psychiatrist to know that she was going to burst up eventually.

Merlin missed Lancelot too. He couldn’t even imagine how sad Gwen was. Well, he could, but... but Edwin and Merlin were never like Gwen and Lancelot. Though that didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine what Gwen was going through, and he doubted she had anyone else to talk to. She had always been kind of a loner, she had few friends, in spite of her good nature. Perhaps it was her shyness, or how decidedly focused on her career she was.

Either way, Merlin was worried. That was what he always did best. Worry.

“You look terrible,” said Gaius, sometime around ten in the morning, when he finally arrived to the hospital.

“Isn’t this your free day?” said Merlin, choosing to ignore the jibe.

“Yeah, but I was bored at home and I needed to check up on a patient...”

“You should get some sleep, now that you can. Unlike me,” said Merlin.

“Stop complaining. You could’ve been a great... I don’t know. Something else. Something that didn’t require so much effort. Like your friend, the writer.”

“I think he sleeps even less than I do,” said Merlin.

“Partying too much?” said Gaius. “That’s the artsy type...”

“It’s not that, he’s... whatever,” said Merlin, with a shrug. He wasn’t supposed to talk about Lancelot’s insomnia. He hoped he was sleeping well now that he was back in his motherland.

It was weird, why Lancelot was like that. He was half-French, after all, but he refused to acknowledge that part of his identity, unless it was for the legal benefits. He even rejected the citizenship, and opted for the Chilean one instead.

Lancelot had been in Chile very few times in his life. Yet he considered it home more than he did Camelot, or even Daobeth, where he grew up. Merlin didn’t get him. Merlin didn’t get anything.

“You look terrible, Merlin. Is everything okay?” asked Gaius. “Come to the resting room for a while with me, will you?”

Gaius didn’t really give him much of a choice. He pushed him toward the room and made him sit on a sofa. They were old, and Merlin’s bottom sunk almost to the floor, but it was better than standing up.

Gaius opened the mini bar and got a bottle of water.

“What? Do I look flustered or something?” said Merlin, pouting.

“Don’t be a brat. Water helps you relax.”

“So does whiskey,” said Merlin, grabbing the bottle reluctantly.

“Yeah, but you can’t drink on the job. Not at least until you’re old enough to know how to hide it,” Gaius said, with a wink.

Merlin looked at him, appalled.

“Seriously?” he said.

“Of course not, you idiot!” said Gaius, smacking the back of his head and making him spill some of the water on his coat, “That would be terribly irresponsible!”

“Sorry,” said Merlin, not sure what he was apologising for.

“Now, spit it out. What’s troubling you?”

“It’s just...” Merlin sighed. “I broke up with my boyfriend of over two years and when I thought I was over it and started dating, the new guy cheated on me. I mean, I wasn’t hurt because we weren’t that serious yet, it was too early, I guess, but it still was so...” Merlin groaned. “And then my best friend announced that he was moving to the other side of the planet, and left me, and I miss him, and he also left my other best friend, who is heartbroken, and I don’t know how to fix it, how to fix her and how to fix me, and I’m worried about her because I don’t want her to get depressed. She’s been through a lot in life, you know? Her mother left them when she was little, just after her baby brother was born, and her father died just a couple of years ago, and her brother didn’t even show up at the funeral, she’s...”

“Okay, okay,” said Gaius, interrupting him. “I can see how it is, Merlin. But you just can’t carry other people’s burdens. You are a good friend, I know that. You are there for people when they need you. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. You should know better than that.”

Merlin pouted.

“Yeah, but I still worry about her...”

“And what is that good for?” asked Gaius. “Unless you seriously think she’s in danger, you shouldn’t meddle. She’s an adult, just like you, and she can deal with her own problems at her own pace.”

Merlin nodded.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right...”

“I am right, boy...” he said with a smile. “Now tell me, what else is bothering you?”

Merlin looked up at him.

“It’s just that.”

Gaius didn’t say anything, but raised an eyebrow and stared at him, waiting for him to spit it out. Things like that made Merlin feel younger. Gaius was more than a teacher, more than a mentor. He felt like the grumpy uncle Merlin never had.

“I’m fine,” said Merlin. “Just tired.”

Gaius looked at him for a moment, and then nodded, but he didn’t look very convinced.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ve got you a new patient, so take five minutes to rest and come find me in my office.”

“Alright,” said Merlin, nodding.

He thought about the ring, safely stored in one of the inner pockets of his satchel. He couldn’t just tell Gaius about that. He wouldn’t get it.

*

His new patient’s name was Freya. She was thin and fragile. She had that look in her eyes that always made Merlin feel a little terrified, a little desperate. She spent three quarters of the session crying. Severe depression. Sleeping pills, antidepressants with a pinch of anxiolytics in it, therapy. Merlin told her to get an appointment for the following week. He explained to her what was going on in her brain; that the meds would help her feel better, would help her sleep and rest. She seemed to get her hopes up a little bit, and by the time she left the therapy room, she seemed slightly less upset than when Merlin had first seen her.

He allowed himself to be worried about her for five minutes. _You can’t just linger on it_ , he thought, _or you’ll go insane_. He thought, for a moment, about Kilgharrah’s lectures on psychoanalysis. We are all crazy, to a certain degree, perhaps.

He thought about the ring in his satchel. He hadn’t dreamed about its owner in two weeks, since he had woken up wearing it.

*

“Where is your ring?” asked Leon, out of the blue, when they were having dinner.

Arthur tried to act normal. He chewed slowly on his salad, looked up at Leon and grunted to let him know he’d heard, and looked away instantly. He probably had noticed it ages ago. At least since that lunch with Arthur’s sisters. When had that been? Two weeks ago? And he still hadn’t found it. He was sure, he was so sure he’d gone asleep with it. But he’d combed every inch of the room, the loo, everywhere—and bloody thing was nowhere to be found. He was so ashamed. He felt so guilty and that was insane. He had no reason to be guilty. He hadn’t been careless. If the ring was lost, it was an accident.

He swallowed his mouthful of salad.

“Well...” he said, and stuffed some more lettuce into his mouth.

Leon sighed.

“Why aren’t you wearing it? Did you lose it?”

He didn’t even seem angry. Just tired, or maybe disappointed.

Arthur put down his fork.

“I’m sorry, love. I don’t know what happened to it.”

“Well, that’s why they call it ‘lose’,” he answered back, morosely.

“I just... I swear I went to bed with it one day. You know, the night you came back from New York? But... when I woke up, I wasn’t wearing it, so I figured it might have slipped out of my finger while I was asleep. I searched the sheets, I searched everywhere, but I couldn’t find it. I just don’t know what happened.”

Leon didn’t seem convinced. He was frowning, like Arthur did something he disapproved of. Well, of course, he’d lost his engagement ring. That was a pretty shitty thing, but it’s not like he’d been careless! He hadn’t lost it on purpose! And now Leon looked like he didn’t believe him, like Arthur was some kind of naughty child making up a ridiculous excuse for not doing his homework.

It unnerved Arthur.

“That’s what happened. I’m sorry. I’ll get a replacement.”

“You can’t,” said Leon. “It was a designer’s piece. The only one.”

Arthur gulped.

“Well, we’ll just... ask them to make a replacement. I’ll pay for it myself, don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll agree if we offer enough—”

“It’s not about that, Arthur! And you know it,” said Leon, raising his voice a little bit. He ran his hands through his curls, exasperated. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure I’d actually lost it! I thought I could still find it...”

“Where? In the street?” said Leon, with a shrug. “Look, it doesn’t matter. You took it off somewhere and you lost it, but—”

“Wait, wait,” said Arthur, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean? I didn’t just take it off and lost it. I’m very careful with it. I remember I went to bed wearing it, because you still weren’t home, and I missed you, and...”

“Oh don’t give me that,” said Leon, and he looked really hurt now.

Arthur just stared at him, aghast.

“You think I cheated?” he said. “You think I took it off to sleep with someone and then forgot it and now I can’t get it back? Is that what you think?”

Leon shrugged.

“I was gone for two whole weeks, Arthur.”

“I can’t believe you’d think that! After all this time, you should know I’m not the kind of guy to do that, I’m—”

“You’re voluble, Arthur. You change your mind every two seconds! That, I know.”

“Well, yeah, I might not be very wise about my choices sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to cheat on you!” said Arthur, throwing his arms up in the air. “What the hell is that about? I’ve never, ever cheated on anyone. Not even once.”

Leon looked even more hurt. He just didn’t seem to believe it.

“You’ve been acting weird,” he said. “You don’t trust me, you—”

“Oh, I don’t trust you. _I_ don’t trust _you_ ,” said Arthur. “You travel all the fucking time. From what I know, you could have a lover in every port, and I just don’t go around accusing you randomly of cheating just because you’re away!”

“I call you almost every night!” Leon said. “There’s not one reason why you should not trust me.”

“Except the fact that you don’t trust me,” said Arthur.

“You don’t trust me either!” said Leon. “This is insane, I’m done. We’re just running in circles, again.”

That _again_ wasn’t something Arthur wanted to hear. Again. Like the last dozens of times they have attempted to be together.

“Fuck it, Leon,” said Arthur, sadly. “Let’s just stop fighting. I’m sorry about the ring, but that’s the truth. Maybe I got distracted and lost it somewhere else, but I swear to you I’m not cheating. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Leon looked at him, and there was so much sadness in his eyes that Arthur’s heart broke right there and then.

“Maybe,” he said. “But you don’t want to marry me, do you?”

“What makes you think that?”

Leon laughed. It was hollow, broken.

“That you just didn’t say ‘I do want to marry you, Leon.’”

“Oh, come on! Give me a break. I’m trying to work things out here, figuring out what’s wrong with us...” said Arthur.

“Everything,” said Leon, with a shrug. “I’m... I’m just tired, Arthur. I’m going to go for a walk.”

Arthur felt like he had punched him right in the solar plexus.

“Come on, love, just... let’s finish eating and talk, okay?” he asked, but he felt like a drowning man kicking helplessly from the bottom of the ocean, trying to reach the surface with limbs made of lead. Leon was already out of the kitchen.

“Don’t wait up for me,” he said, from the foyer.

Arthur didn’t even attempt to follow. He just stayed, sitting there, looking at Leon’s empty chair.

*

Leon didn’t come back. Arthur could barely catch any sleep. He sent several texts to Leon, apologising, asking him to come home, but he got no response. He called him a couple of times, and Leon didn’t pick up. Arthur went to work the following day, feeling like a truck had ran him over. By 10 a. m., when he was about to send a menacing texts (something among the lines of “If you don't reply to me right away I’m going to assume something bad happened to you and contact the police”), Leon sent a text.

_we need to talk_

Arthur rolled his eyes. He was terrified, angry, hurt, full of guilt and shame, and he didn't know what to make out of the whole thing yet. He refrained from replying sarcastically, but he didn't know what to say other than “Yes” and he didn't want to go with a monosyllable. He spent almost five minutes trying to think of a proper reply, when another text came it. It was Leon’s, too.

_called in sick. im home right now. r u busy?_

Arthur wanted to throw the mobile to the wall. Now? He wanted to talk now? Arthur had a lot of work to do, he couldn't just leave the office whenever he wanted, let alone at Leon’s whim. Unlike Leon, he didn’t have any special connections or preferential treatment from his boss, and he'd already (kind of) lost a great writer, and he couldn’t just...

He let out a sigh.

He was so tired. It wasn’t just last night. It was the dream. Losing the ring. Everything Leon had said, everything he had accused him of. And now he was texting, like a teenager. Well, Arthur had texted him but... but what? Weren’t they both being way too immature over this? Arthur and Leon had a history, and it felt like their relationship was a spiral, it always ended up in something like this. They always broke up after something like this. So they were either going to make it or break it.

It was the least thing Arthur wanted to deal with right now. But then again, he’d been ignoring it long enough.

_I'll be there in half an hour._

*

On the drive home, Arthur remembered the first time he and Leon dated (and broke up). They were sixteen, and Arthur wasn’t even out to his parents yet. No one knew. Well, he thought no one knew he was gay, but it turned out Morgause had already noticed because, of course, she always knew everything before and better than everyone else. Morgana was too busy battling her own demons to pay attention to anyone; and as for Arthur's parents... well. They seemed to have been having trouble around that time.

So Leon and Arthur started dating, secretly. That lasted about four months, and it was marvellous and Arthur was so, so happy.

It was like the perfect antidote to what was going on in his house. His parents had fights more often than not, Morgause was away at uni and with no intention of visiting, and Arthur tried not to think too much of Morgana's skipping meals habit. In spite of how stressful it was to hide it from everyone, Arthur loved Leon, and it was worth it. Leon was like an island for him, a paradise where everything was beautiful and perfect. Except when they fought, but they used to make up pretty easily. They hadn’t been friends for years for nothing.

But then along came Mithian Nemeth.

Mithian was seriously the sweetest girl Arthur had ever met, and even after so many years, he was glad he didn't cut her out of his life like Leon wanted, because she was one of the greatest friends he’d ever had.

Mithian’s family owned a little empire of fashion—clothes, accessories, perfumes. They signed a contract with Uther’s advertisement’s firm, and once Uther found out there was a girl Arthur’s age in the family, he couldn’t just get it out of his mind to set them up.

“It’s time for you to start dating, son; it’s a natural thing,” he’d said. “And she’s a lovely girl,” he’d told him. “She is very beautiful.”

In the end, Arthur just couldn’t say no. He remembered the night of their first date. He called Morgause and asked her for tips. He was desperate. Morgause was stressed and cranky, and told him that if he didn’t want to date the girl, he just had to tell her in the first date, nicely, and be done with it. Arthur lied, said he wanted to give it a go.

“What do you want me to do, Arthur? Validate you? Tell you that it’s the right thing to do—to go out with this girl who might be just like dad says, really lovely, when you actually have no intentions of properly dating her? I mean, just... Think about what you want and what you don’t want, and act accordingly.”

Her advice was useless. Morgana helped him dress up, and gave him weird advice like what kind of compliments to say and what kind of things not to mention (there was a lot about food here). Arthur followed through, and things ran smoothly.

Except for the fact that he didn’t tell Leon a word about it.

On the next date, which happened less than a week later, Arthur had made plans to see Leon and had to make up some random excuse (he'd tell Leon eventually, he would, he just needed time to figure out how...) not to see Leon. Unfortunately, Leon went to visit a friend who lived in the same luxurious penthouse complex than Mithian, and he saw them when Arthur kissed her goodbye. The first and only time he ever kissed a girl.

It was awful.

To this day, Arthur sustains it wasn't cheating. But it seemed to him that Leon never quite got over it. Arthur hadn’t either, probably.

He found Leon sitting on the sofa, zapping through the channels, his eyes reflecting the images hollowly, like they were made of glass.

“Hey,” he muttered, and turned the television off when Arthur was in his line of sight.

Arthur sat down next to him, but didn’t attempt to kiss him or hug him. Leon didn’t look that different from usual, just serious. Arthur could tell he had recently showered.

“Hey,” Arthur said, and twisted his mouth. “Look, I’m really sorry about the ring. I really am. I don’t know what happened. I was probably a careless idiot and lost it somewhere. I should’ve told you, but I... I just didn’t want you to think that I didn’t care about this, that I wasn’t taking things seriously...”

Leon sighed.

“Arthur,” he said, and grabbed his right hand. He toyed with Arthur’s thumb ring. “You’ve had this ring since you turned eighteen...” he trailed off.

Arthur felt his cheeks flushing.

“So?”

Leon shrugged.

“It’s probably not fair. But you don’t seem the kind to be careless with jewellery. Your watch, too. That special edition one Mithian gave you on your graduation,” Leon added, eyeing the watch in Arthur’s wrist as if it had personally offended him.

“So what? I don’t love you because I lost your ring? C’mon, Leon...” said Arthur.

“I’m not sure that’s the main problem here,” said Leon, and he looked really, really sad. “Arthur, we just... don’t trust each other. I don’t think we ever could, not since we first dated.”

He let go of Arthur’s hand, rested his shoulder on the backrest of the sofa.

“But we’ve come really far,” said Arthur. “We’re not sixteen anymore.”

“No, we aren’t,” said Leon and looked into Arthur’s eyes. There was mainly determination behind them. And underneath that, resignation and sadness. Arthur felt a lump in his throat.

“Leon, let’s just think about—”

“Arthur,” Leon interrupted him, softly, a contrast to the way Arthur was raising his voice. “What is there to think about? We’ve tried countless times. This ring thing is just... superficial, it doesn’t really matter — it wouldn’t have to matter. But the thing is, I’ve been having my doubts about getting married, and I don’t think you are that convinced either.”

Arthur lowered his eyes, ashamed. So Leon had noticed. Of course he’d noticed. But Arthur felt ashamed that he hadn’t seen Leon’s doubts there.

“We don’t have to get married now, we can just...” he said, half heartedly, and didn’t even finish the sentence. What could they just...?

Leon shook his head.

“Arthur, we can’t go on like this. We’ve been going like this for way, way too long. I think it’s time we move on. This time for real.”

Arthur glared at him.

“We always move on for real. It’s always for good. It’s always the last time. But we just keep coming back to each other, Leon. We love each other, and that’s it.”

Leon’s eyes got red, like he was fighting back tears. Arthur had a lump in his throat that he had to swallow.

“Arthur, you know love is not enough to keep two people together. We’ve tried.”

“We could do couple’s counselling...”

“Before we’re even married?” Leon said, throwing up his arms in the air. Then he covered his face with his hands, slid them down like he had ran out of patience. “Arthur, let’s face it. This has never worked and it’s not going to work. We’re just not meant to be together. I love you, god, I know I do, but it’s just not healthy for either of us.”

Arthur turned away, unable to face him. He felt ashamed, guilty, angry, crushed. Defeated.

“Ever since I was like 13 and started pining over you,” he said, softly, “There hasn’t been a time of my life in which I didn’t envision you in my future. Even during my rock star wannabe phase, I thought you’d always be by my side. Even when I was with other people, sometimes there were moments when I thought about you, about us. I can’t give up on that, Leon.”

“It’s not easy for me either, Arthur,” he said. “This isn’t a tantrum. I’ve been thinking about this a lot.”

“Ever thought of discussing it with me?” said Arthur, turning to glare at him.

Leon shook his head.

“I’m really sorry. But I think we just have to let go of that. All those things you said... they’re dreams, Arthur. Fantasies that will never come true.”

Arthur lowered his eyes. Deep down, he knew Leon was right. Then why couldn’t he just accept it? Was it too hard for him to accept defeat, to face the fact that he’d failed at one of the greatest quests of his life?

“Arthur,” Leon said, and put his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. The touch was almost painful.

Arthur faced him, and nodded.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I honestly tried, every time. I didn’t, I wasn’t just... fooling around, Leon. Even when I accepted your proposal, I was so sure...”

Leon nodded.

“I know, love,” he muttered, and leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. Arthur put his arms around him, grabbed at the back of Leon’s shirt, desperately, and they held each other for long. Arthur didn’t even notice when he had started to sob.

After a while that seemed to last forever (all the dreams broken, all the things that would never be), they let go.

“I’ll take the guest room while you...” Leon said, vaguely.

Arthur shook his head.

“No, no, it’s... It’s better if I just. I’ll start packing. There’s no way I’m going back to the office. Just, could you hold on to some of my stuff while I find my own place?” he asked.

Leon nodded.

“For as long as you need.”

*

There wasn’t any place Arthur could go. His parents’ house was definitely not an option. He didn’t want to explain anything to them yet, for fuck’s sake, and he didn’t want to jeopardise Leon’s promotion. Uther could get ridiculously emotional responses and act recklessly. Morgana was out of the question, too. Even if she’d be supportive, and Arthur knew she would be supportive, she worked with Leon. It would to be too tempting, to ask her about Leon, how he was doing, how were things going for him with Uther... And she was really good friends with Leon. This would be difficult to process for her too.

He could try Mithian, but... they hadn’t talked in a while (not much since he’d gotten back with Leon), and it didn’t see fair to impose on her. She was probably out of the country anyway.

Arthur would’ve gone to a hotel. But he just didn’t want to be alone. He was sitting in the car, the truck full with his toiletries and some of his clothes and personal items, unsure of where to go. He grabbed his mobile and scrolled through his contacts. He stopped at Bitch.

Morgause picked up after the third ring.

“Arthur? What’s up?” she asked. “To what do I owe the honour of this call?”

“Hey...” he said, trying to sound upbeat, but even to his own ears, he sounded miserable. “Are you home?”

“Uh, yeah. Why? Is everything alright?”

“Can I come over?”

It took a second for Morgause to reply, but when she did, it was firm, “Sure. Come over, I’m cooking. We’ll have dinner.”

*

When Arthur arrived, Morgause had set the table dinner all fancy, even with flowers—luckily, not candles. A table for two. She opened the door wearing an apron and her little black dress.

“You had a date,” Arthur said, as he followed into the kitchen. He had chosen not to unload his truck, just in case something happened and he couldn’t stay here. With Morgause, nothing was ever for sure.

“No, I didn’t,” she said. “Come into the kitchen and help me finish icing the cake.”

“You baked a cake!” he said.

“Yes, I went through all of this work for you, annoying baby brother, so you might as well help and eat,” she said with a wink.

“You had a date,” Arthur repeated, feeling a little guilty, as he finished smudging chocolate fudge over what looked like the most delicious chocolate cake ever. Morgause had always been good at the kitchen, just like Vivienne. Arthur and Morgana, though, were terrible. Blame it on Uther’s genes.

“No, I didn’t. My boyfriend has been kidnapped by the hospital and he won’t leave in twelve hours, so...”

“So you cancelled your date and instead of having a lovely evening here, he’s double-shifting at the hospital,” Arthur said.

Morgause turned to give him a dirty look.

“Shut up, Arthur. I can still tell him to come over...”

“Thanks,” he muttered, and he finished icing the cake. He immediately popped the spatula into his mouth.

“Bring the plates from the table, will you? The soup’s ready...”

The soup was good. Arthur complimented her, complimented her looks (which made Morgause roll her eyes), complimented her decoration, and then ran out of things to say.

“So,” said Morgause. “Are you going to tell me what happened, or am I going to have to guess and offend you?” she asked, as she put a dish with enough salad to feed a horse in front of him.

Arthur stared at the plate for a moment, and then said, with a very low voice, “Leon and I split up. I mean, this time for good. We’re not getting married. We’re not getting back together.”

His eyes reddened as he said the words, and he felt the lump in his throat form again. Morgause stopped eating and just stared at him.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so sorry...” she said.

“No, you aren’t,” he said, bitterly.

Morgause sighed.

“Alright. I didn’t think it was right for you, but believe me when I tell you I am very sorry I was right. And I am very sorry that you’re suffering.”

Arthur chuckled.

“You’re a bitch.”

“And you’re a twat. But you’re my annoying baby brother,” she said, and she stood up from her table.

“Stepbrother,” he muttered, half-heartedly, as she hugged him. The angle was awkward for her, and Arthur buried his face in her neck, and sobbed again, like a child, helpless and frustrated and angry and sad.

But Morgause didn’t say anything. She petted his hair, and hug him tight, and didn’t let go for a long, long time.

*

Morgause prepared the guest room for Arthur while he unloaded his car. He insisted it was only temporarily, but she told him that he could stay as long as he needed, as long as he didn’t make a mess. Arthur knew they wouldn’t have a problem about that, they were both clean freaks, after all—even if Arthur was slightly lazier and preferred to pay people to clean his house for him, rather than doing it himself.

“Would you like to stay with me tonight?” she asked, as she helped him hang some of his suits (the rest were still at home; no, not home—Leon’s house) in the closet.

“What? No!” said Arthur, furrowing his nose.

Morgause chuckled, “Alright, alright.”

But sometime late at night, when Arthur couldn’t, for the life of him, fall asleep yet, Morgause slipped into his room.

“You’re awake,” she muttered, even in complete darkness.

“No, I wasn’t. You woke me up,” he grumbled.

“I’m staying with you,” she said, and slipped under the covers without further warning.

“Hey!” he protested. “Your snoring won’t let me sleep, go away!”

“I don’t snore. You do. And I’m sacrificing my precious hours of sleep to keep you company. You should be grateful,” she said.

Arthur was lying on his back and Morgause on her side, her hand under the pillow as she always used to.

“You don’t have to, you know. I don’t need you to stay with me, I’m not a kid afraid of the dark or anything,” he complained.

Morgause put her hand on his shoulder. It was warm and familiar, and it made Arthur think of his childhood, when things were much easier and nicer, and suddenly he felt like crying.

“No, but... Do you remember when dad brought home _It_ for us to watch it? How old were we? I think I was like... six, so you must have been three. Morgana was a little baby, so she didn’t even watch it.”

“Oh, I remember,” said Arthur. “It’s why you’re afraid of clowns.”

“It’s why _we_ are afraid of clowns, annoying baby brother,” she amended. “I didn’t want to watch it. I was scared. And you were scared too, but you didn’t want dad to think you were a coward, and I didn’t want to look like a crying little girl, so we both watched it. And then you couldn’t sleep. But you didn’t go to mum and dad because, again, you didn’t want him to think you were a coward. So you went to me. You slipped into my bedroom and asked me if you could stay with me.”

“I don’t remember any of that,” Arthur said, and it was true. But he did have vague memories of being terrified for days after seeing that movie.

“Of course you don’t. You’ve always had terrible memory,” Morgause said, as-a-matter-of-factly. “But... I do remember. You were so scared I didn’t even try to mock you. And you know why? Because I was terrified myself. So you gave me as much comfort, or probably more, than I gave you.”

“Is this your way of telling me that you just remember _It_ and are afraid of sleeping alone?” said Arthur.

“No, it’s my way of saying that I’m upset that you’re heartbroken, and I want you to get well soon.”

“Well, I’m sorry my melodramatics are upsetting you,” said Arthur, morosely.

“It’s not like that, and you know it,” Morgause insisted.

“I know, I know...” said Arthur. “Why is it always so difficult between us, Morgause?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably mum and dad’s fault,” she said, and moved an inch closer.

“Yeah,” said Arthur. “Blame it on your parents.”

“I know I can be a real bitch sometimes, but I do love you Arthur. You are my brother,” Morgause said, all serious.

Arthur smiled, in the dark.

“That’s a nice thing to hear... you admitting to being a bitch.”

Morgause snorted.

“Go to sleep, you twat...”

“I can’t,” he whined.

“Count your breaths. Not sheep, your breaths. You’ll fall asleep, I promise,” she said, and put her hand on Arthur’s forehead for a moment. It felt warm, and when she moved it away, he felt his mind much more at peace.

*

Arthur woke up to someone saying “Morgause?” loud, but tentatively. He groaned and turned over, trying to block the sound as his sister disentangled herself from him. She must have hugged him sometime while asleep.

“Oh hi,” he heard her say. “Good morning.”

“Er. Good morning to you too, is that Arthur?”

“What? Yes. Yes. Oh my god,” she said, louder. “He’s going to stay for a few days.”

“Okay,” said the other voice. Mordred, probably.

Arthur grunted.

“Could you guys take this elsewhere so I can sleep s’more?” he muttered to his pillow. Or at least, that's what he thought he said, but Morgause didn’t understand him, and he had to repeat himself until he was fully awake.

“What time is it?” he asked, grumpily.

“Seven thirty,” said Mordred. “I came straight from the hospital. Well, I brought some breakfast but only for two...” he added, in a lower and more awkward tone.

Arthur finally moved to face him under the fog of his drowsiness. He looked like shit. Tired, red-eyed, pale.

“Man, how many hours did they have you kidnapped at that hospital?” Arthur asked.

“Thirty,” said Mordred, and he looked at the bed with yearning.

Morgause was out of it in no time.

“You should go lie down,” she said, and gave him a peck.

“Yeah, but I’d like to eat something first.”

“I’ll bring you breakfast in bed.”

If Arthur hadn’t been so sleepy, he’d probably do something loud and comical to make Morgause realise how surprised he was to hear her said that. But he just opened his eyes and fell back onto the pillows, willing time to go back so he could get a few extra hours.

“I think I’d fall asleep before you get to the kitchen,” Mordred said, and he sounded different now, bubbly, tender. Arthur wanted the mattress to suck him in and forever remain entrapped inside it.

Or just to go back to sleep.

“That’s true. Oh, that reminds me—Arthur, what time do you have to be up for work?”

“An hour ago...” he said.

“So you’re calling in sick?” Morgause asked. “Would you like me to do that for you?”

“What? No, I’m just late, I’ll just...”

“Get some rest, Arthur, you need it,” she said. “I’ll call your boss to tell her you have mononucleosis.”

“What? Wasn’t that a made-up thing from _Hey Arnold!_?” he asked.

The door was closed behind him, but Arthur didn’t protest. He just went back to sleep, leaving things to Morgause. When he emerged again, it was some time past ten. He found Morgause still in her pyjamas, wearing her hipster glasses and browsing the internet in her living room.

“Hey,” she looked up, smiling. “Mordred and I ate everything he brought, but there’s some leftover from dinner or... eggs, if you want something. I got the groceries yesterday so there's plenty of stuff, just suit yourself,” she said.

Arthur sat down across from her, on the other chair of the living room.

“You alright?” she asked.

Arthur shrugged.

“Where is Mordred?” he asked.

“Sleeping.”

“He’s got a key to your flat,” he said.

Morgause nodded.

“Yeah, he does.”

“Does he come here often to wake you up or...”

Morgause smiled.

“What are you getting at, Arthur?”

“Nothing. I just didn’t realise you guys were that serious. You don’t do serious. Or at least that’s what I thought.”

Morgause shrugged, and gave him one of her piercing looks. Like she wanted to figure him out, but it was the other way around, and Arthur wasn’t going to let her intimidate him.

“Seriously, what’s the deal with him? I mean... he’s like what? Twenty?”

Morgause rolled her eyes.

“Twenty eight.”

“And you’re thirty five.”

“Yes, I am aware of both our ages. Now, what exactly is your point?”

“Isn’t he too young? I mean, he’s like practically still in school, and... I don’t know, Morgause. What are you playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything!” she said, glaring at him.

“No? You know dad doesn’t approve—”

“I’m not Morgana, Arthur. I won’t go around getting into fake relationships with people just to upset him. If I wanted to, I would’ve slept with Cenred,” she said.

“Oh, don’t make this about Cenred.”

“I’m not making anything about...” she trailed off. “I just don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“I just... It’s weird, okay? I’ve never seen you like that before. It's odd.”

“I’ve dated people before, Arthur. Seriously. I mean, with serious intentions. You just didn’t know about them,” Morgause said with a shrug.

“Exactly. That’s what confuses me. You haven’t done this before, getting him to know the family and all that...” Arthur shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“About what? We’re doing great. I thought I could introduce you. That’s all.”

Arthur nodded.

“He seems nice.”

“He is more than nice.”

“And he seems to care enormously about you. And he’s not a crazy hut, because if I walked into a room and found Leon in—” he cut his words, his brain catching up.

He let out a sigh.

“Well, not Leon, but... you get my point, right?”

Morgause nodded. Her features had softened.

“Go get some breakfast, Arthur. I told your secretary you had caught a stomach bug and probably wouldn't be in shape for work for a few days.”

“That’s... not true, to say the least,” he said, glaring at her.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” she asked.

“That’s none of your business.”

Morgause shrugged.

“Maybe it is. I was planning to go on a trip on my own to see some locations for my next film, but... you could come, if you want.”

Arthur shook his head.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. I think it’s just better if I get back to work as soon as possible. Get my things from Leon’s house... find my own place...”

“Who else knows about this?” she asked. “I mean, I assume you haven’t talked to Morgana, or she’d probably be here either throwing a fit or bringing you chocolates. And mum and dad...”

Arthur shook his head.

“Only you know.”

Morgause nodded.

“Well, Leon’s at work now, isn’t he? We can go fetch your things as soon as you have breakfast, if you want.”

Arthur looked at her, surprised.

“I, um. I don’t know, there’s a lot of stuff and...”

“Fortunately I am friends with the lady of the groceries down the street, whom I called earlier, and she’s willing to give me some carton boxes for your stuff. I have a full set of luggage, so in my car and yours, we probably could get all your stuff out of the house today.”

Arthur lowered his eyes.

“Or later... It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Just so you know.”

“No, no. It’s better if we do it today, I suppose. I’ll just... I don’t know where we’d put all my stuff.”

Morgause shrugged. “We’ll figure. Don’t worry, I’m as OCD as you are, it’s not going to be messy for long.”

Arthur remained silent.

“Come on...” she said. “Go get some breakfast and we’ll figure it out later...”

Arthur nodded, and almost mechanically, he obeyed.

*

Gwen met Merlin for lunch at the hospital. It was a shitty place to eat, but they were used to lousy food now, and it was the only breather Merlin had that day.

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “How are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to eat by myself,” she said, cutting right to the point.

Merlin made a gesture with his head towards the counter, and together, they bought their food and sat at a table by the window, with a view of the hospital garden.

“I miss him,” Gwen said, softly. “Every day. Every hour. It’s ridiculous. I mean, even when I’m working. He was never with me when I worked, but I miss him. I miss him all the time, it’s like... it’s normal,” she said, hurriedly. “It is what it is, it is how it goes, but I just can’t deal with it.”

Her voice quivered, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Gwen...” Merlin muttered, and put his hand on top of hers, at the table. She moved it, covered her face with her hands, sobbed quietly.

Merlin moved to sit next to her.

“Come here...” he muttered, and like a rag doll, she allowed herself to be pulled into a hug.

*

“Why are you wearing a ring around your neck?” Gaius asked when Merlin ran into him in the entrance to the hospital. It was the late afternoon and Merlin was about to go home. He’d given Gwen the key to his flat, told her to go there and wait for him, watch a film, read something, entertain herself, before it was time for him to go and meet her. Gwen had agreed.

“Oh, um, this?” asked Merlin. He was a bit distracted, worried about his friend. Merlin grabbed the ring and showed it to Gaius.

“Yes, that one. Unless you’ve got another one under your ratty t-shirt,” said Gaius.

Merlin flushed.

“It’s not ratty, it’s—”

“You haven’t answered me.”

Annoying. It was really annoying how Gaius sometimes acted like he was one of Merlin’s parents rather than his mentor. It wasn't the same thing.

“I found it,” said Merlin, with a shrug. “And since I don’t know to whom it belongs, I just wear it around hoping someone will recognise it.”

Gaius raised his eyebrow.

“Really? Where did you find it? At the hospital? Why don’t you just turn it to the—”

“I found it outside my flat building,” said Merlin. “I have no way of knowing.”

“You should’ve left it where you found it, then,” said Gaius. “If you were able to find it, then it hadn’t been there for long. Perhaps the person who lost it retraced their steps and would’ve found it...”

“I don’t think so,” said Merlin, shaking his head.

“You look like a Tolkien character. All you’re lacking is the short stature,” said Gaius, with a smile. For a moment, he almost seemed like a kind grandpa, like a nice uncle.

Merlin smiled back.

“Yeah, it’s the running gag among the new interns,” he said, with a smile. “Whether they call me Frodo or Gollum depends on their mood.”

Gaius chuckled.

“Need a ride home?” he asked.

Merlin shook his head.

“No, thanks. I’ll take the train. I need to pick up some food too, so...” he shrugged.

Gaius nodded.

“See you tomorrow, Merlin.”

*

It was a dark and stormy chat with Gwen. She told Merlin how confused she was, how sad, how miserable. He asked her, several times, if she actually understood Lancelot’s actions, his reasons to just drop everything and move to South America. Yes, Lancelot was a writer, an artist, he had some bohemian temper and some old-fashioned ways, but why did he have to do things like that?

“He almost got into legal trouble with his publishers, you know,” she said, sniffing. “He’s supposed to deliver a book next year. He can’t just hop off and leave and say he’ll write in Spanish now... But he did, he managed to convince his editor that there’d only be a minor delay, that he’d write the book in Spanish and find a suitable translator and pay for the translation himself and...” Gwen shook her head. “He’s crazy.”

Merlin nodded. He knew that already.

“You know, I tried to understand him, too.”

“You’re a psychiatrist, Merlin. Tell me your diagnosis,” said Gwen, dryly.

Merlin chuckled.

“I’m not working all the time, Gwen.”

“I know, I’m just... so confused, so hurt.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

Gwen shrugged.

“I asked him why. He kept saying he needed time, space. The same stuff about reconnecting with his roots, whatever the fuck that means... Excuses. I just don’t get it. I thought we were alright, Merlin,” she said sadly. “I feel like a teenager, trying to figure out what the fuck went wrong, what did I do that he felt like he had to put an ocean between us...”

Merlin shook his head emphatically.

“No, no. You can’t do this. You know you can’t do this to yourself. You have nothing to feel sorry about, nothing to blame yourself for. He chose this. It was his decision, his idea, whatever the reasons. There may be true, meaningful reasons, or there may be bullshit, but whatever it is, it is important for him and he believes it, and we must respect that, Gwen.”

Gwen sobbed even harder.

“I try to tell myself that, but I just...”

“It’s hard,” said Merlin, softly. “I miss him too, you know?”

“Yeah, but at least you’re allowed to stay in touch with him. He didn’t break up with you.”

“How do you know?”

Merlin gave him a cheeky smile, trying to lighten up the mood. Gwen snorted, and shoved at his shoulder.

“Stop it! It’s not funny. I did think about it, you know...”

“What, me and Lance? No way!” said Merlin, appalled.

“Oh my god, no!” said Gwen, laughing. “I thought about there being another woman. I mean... if there was a Chilean woman he’d met, maybe...”

“That would make sense,” said Merlin, nodding. “But that is not Lancelot at all. He wouldn’t cheat, and he wouldn’t have left like that in that case. He’s an honest man; he would’ve told you the truth.”

Gwen nodded.

“The truth is always more complex than that, I guess...” she said.

“Or simpler,” added Merlin. “The truth is always simpler. Or at least that’s how I see things in my practise.”

“How are things going, by the way?” she asked. “Are you doing alright? Are you ready to move on?”

Merlin grinned.

“Yeah, I’m starting to think better about my options, but I like the hospital. I think they might make me an offer. I mean, Gaius likes me, and his wife, Alice, does too...”

“And she’s got influence in the committee, I assume,” said Gwen.

Merlin nodded.

“Kilgharrah would support it too.”

“Kilgharrah?” Gwen asked, frowning. “Who’s that?”

“You gotta remember him from uni. He’s the one who’s into the wacky Jungian theories and—”

“Oh, yes,” Gwen nodded. “I remember him. He kinda took you under his wing, didn’t he?” she asked.

Merlin nodded.

“I saw him a couple of weeks ago. He hasn’t aged a day.”

Gwen smiled.

“I remember him. He’ll probably look the same in fifty years.”

“I don’t think he’ll make it another fifty years...” said Merlin.

Gwen glared at him.

“Merlin!”

“What? It’s the truth! He’s almost seventy!”

Gwen shrugged.

“He could become the oldest man on earth. How old was the last one before they died?”

“I have no idea,” said Merlin. “Ask Google.”

Gwen grabbed her tablet and did exactly that.

“One hundred and sixteen years. Wow. Remember being sixteen?” she asked him. “Could you imagine living another one hundred years, after being sixteen?”

Merlin thought about it.

“I’d rather not.”

“Me neither,” said Gwen. “I don’t think I’m going to age well.”

Merlin laughed.

“What are you talking about, you’re gorgeous!” he said.

“There’s Alzheimer in my family,” she said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” said Gwen, with a shrug. “Two grand-uncles from what I know from my mother’s side, and my grandpa, from my dad’s side.”

“Well, nothing is set in stone,” said Merlin. “That doesn’t mean it’ll happen to you.”

Gwen’s eyes looked absent now, melancholic.

“That’s what Lancelot said.”

Merlin gulped, and he realised she’d told him something very intimate, something that scared her and that she’d only told Lancelot before.

“I think I’m going to move on," she said. "I feel like I'm waiting for him, without him promising to come back."

“That’s not healthy.”

“It just wasn’t meant to be, I guess,” said Gwen, looking down. “I’ll just have to face that, and get over it.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what to tell her. He was pretty sure Lancelot loved Gwen more than anyone in the world, but despite Lancelot’s explanations, Merlin still couldn’t understand why he’d gone away either, why he’d left her like this. It was selfish and uncaring. Unlike him. But Lancelot had sometimes done weird, impulsive stuff before. It wasn’t fair for Gwen to just wait until he unilaterally decided what was best for them—to be or not to be together.

“Yeah,” said Merlin. “You’ll be alright.”

Gwen smiled at him, and nodded.

“Thanks, Merlin.”

“Don’t mention it. Now eat your Buffalo Wings, they’re getting cold.”

*

Morgause’s guest room was comfortable, so that was probably not the reason behind Arthur’s recent insomnia. He was having a hard time getting used to the idea that Leon was not going to be part of his life anymore, not as a lover or a husband, and perhaps not even as a friend.

“When will we get the time to be just friends...” he muttered Amy Winehouse’s lyrics to the pillow. He’d woken up, in the middle of the night, thirsty, but too lazy to get out of bed. With a sigh, he left the bed and walked barefoot on the carpet slowly so he wouldn’t wake Morgause, but when he came out into the hallway, he noticed her door was ajar and there was light inside.

It was half past two in the morning.

Mordred had dinner with them and then left to be held hostage at the hospital for the next 24 hours or so, so Arthur had to wonder about Morgause’s sleeping habits. Not that he was worried about her... well, alright, he was worried about her. He knew her insomnia had been a problem during her uni years and a bit later, something that she had to fix by taking pills (just like Morgana, and maybe now, Arthur himself, if he didn’t got this under control) prescribed by Gaius, that psychiatrist who was old friends with his dad. So he approached the room slowly, quietly, making sure he wouldn’t startle her if she just happened to fall asleep reading with her lights on or something, but what if she’d had an accident? What if she’d fallen and hit her head and was unconscious on her bathroom floor and Arthur didn’t know?

And where did all that anxiety just come from?

Arthur peeked into the room, and it was all very fast. Morgause was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a glass of water in front of her. Except, the glass of water wasn’t on the bed, it was floating, almost at the height of Morgause’s shoulders. He only saw a glimpse of it, because as soon as she noticed him, Morgause gasped, and the glass fell on the bed, splashing her sheets, and she was cursing and reaching for the tissues. Arthur rushed into the room.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Watering my bed,” Morgause said, with an annoyed tone in her voice. “What are you doing, peeking into my room in the middle of the night?”

“I thought you might’ve fallen asleep with the lights on,” Arthur said. He left out the part about him having some anxious thoughts on tragic domestic accidents. “But what was that? Were you... how did you do that?”

“Do what?” Morgause said.

“Stop playing dumb.”

“I was meditating,” she said.

“Right. Because your bed’s the best place to meditate and you do it by making a glass of water float,” he said.

He picked it up from the bedside table, where Morgause had put it after Arthur surprised her and she started to dry her sheets.

“Yes,” she said, with a shrug.

“Morgause, seriously... You and I both spent countless family dinners with Morgana talking about her experiences in India and Tibet to know that whatever you were doing here is no meditation...” he said. “Do you make things float with your mind or something? How do you do it?” he asked, surprised.

Morgause looked at him.

“I just do.”

“No, that is not possible. Was that some kind of illusion? A magic trick? Is that a thing among the artsy type?” Arthur said.

Morgause sighed.

“I’m tired. I want to sleep now.”

“No,” said Arthur. “You don’t look tired, which, by the way, I don’t approve of. You had your struggles with sleep disorders, if I remember correctly, so don’t go staying up till three in the morning every night.”

Morgause smiled.

“Are you worried about me?”

“Don’t smile like a teenage girl who doesn’t get attention from her parents,” Arthur said. “I’m serious. If you lose your mind, who’s going to pay for the nut house? Not me. And Mordred will dump you, and I really like him but I would have to stop hanging out with him, so that would affect me too.”

Morgause just laughed.

“I’m... well, I might be insane. But...”

She grabbed her phone from her bedside table, put it on her palm. Maybe it was a trick of her lamp, but for a moment, it seemed like her eyes were another colour, different than brown. Arthur swore they looked golden for a second, and then her phone started to levitate, slowly, from her palm. She held it up a few inches above her hand, and then slowly dropped it back.

Arthur blinked.

“I am asleep.”

Morgause shook her head.

“So you can... move things with your... sheer willpower or something?” he asked.

Morgause nodded.

“Since when?”

“Since always... Well, not like this, not always, but...” she shrugged.

“This is a thing that happens,” Arthur said. “Telekinesis? Seriously?”

Morgause shrugged.

“I’m full of surprises, aren’t I?”

“You bet,” said Arthur.

“But you don’t seem like the foundations of everything you believed to be true have been shaken,” said Morgause, frowning.

Arthur shrugged.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he said.

Morgause nodded.

“I think I’ve met someone in my dreams. Someone who is... actually alive, you know. But whom I only meet in dreams.”

Morgause frowned.

“What makes you think that?”

“We’ve grown up together, Morgause. You just don’t dream about the same person over and over and over again when you don’t know them. It’s just too weird,” he said. “And then... When I lost my ring...”

Arthur hesitated. Morgause gestured him to go on.

“I was dreaming. He asked if he could put it on. I said yes. And then I woke up, and my ring wasn’t in my finger, and I haven’t seen it ever since,” he said.

Morgause lowered her eyes, and took a moment to think.

“It could be something like astral projections, you know...” she muttered, frowning.

“So you don’t think I’m crazy?”

Morgause shrugged.

“I would, perhaps, if I weren’t able to move stuff with my mind.”

Arthur laughed, and sat down on the bed, next to her, the wet patch between them.

“What were you doing?”

“I was trying to tip the glass upside down without spilling the water,” she said. “I do that when I’m bored...”

“Why don’t you just sleep?”

Morgause shrugged.

“I couldn’t sleep. I was bored.”

“How long has this been going on?” he asked.

“The me lifting things with my mind or the me not sleeping well?” she asked.

“I’d like to know both, but answer whichever you like,” said Arthur.

Morgause smiled.

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping for a few months, but that’s all. Ever since I realised this stupid script is going nowhere and having a vocational crisis...” she shrugged.

“You’re having a vocational crisis? For fuck’s sake, Morgause, you’re thirty fiv—” Arthur stopped himself, and reconsidered his words. “That sucks.”

Morgause smiled sadly.

“I’m getting sleepy. And you’ve got work tomorrow...”

“We’ll talk later.”

“Or we won’t,” she said. “It’s alright. I’m fine.”

“Seriously?”

She smiled, this time for real, and nodded.

“I’m pretty sure you’re not familiar with it, but a small dose of self-doubt is healthy for an ego,” she said.

Arthur glared.

“Ha bloody ha,” he said. “Go to sleep, weirdo. And try not to pee on your bed again.”

“Goodnight, Linus,” she said, as Arthur closed the door behind him, his own glass of water forgotten.

*

The next day, Morgana joined them for dinner. Arthur had the privilege (though he wasn’t exactly sure he should call it that) of helping Morgause cook. She didn’t seem to have much problem with it, though. While she chopped something, she mentally stirred something that was on the stove, and sprinkled salt over something else.

It was surreal. But it was happening, and Arthur had to keep reminding himself that it was so, that he wasn’t hallucinating, that his sister (stepsister, his brain corrected) was able to move things with her mind, and that she was pretty good at it.

It was probably a good ability to have. Like, if you were too tired or sore or lazy to move from the bed or the couch, you could just levitate the remote towards you.

“You’re too quiet,” said Morgause. “Anything wrong?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I feel like I’m in a Disney movie...”

Morgause laughed.

“What? Why?”

“Well, instead of little animals, your... mind or magic or whatever is helping you cook. I feel it would be less disturbing if there were squirrels and doves...”

Morgause turned to him with a smile.

“You’re taking this way too well, you know? I mean... Not many people know about this, but...”

Arthur frowned.

“But you thought I wouldn’t take it well, and so you didn’t tell me.”

Morgause shrugged.

“I guess so.”

Arthur sighed.

“Well... it’s weird, but it’s right before my eyes, so... I think more appalling things happen in this world,” he concluded. “Though I’m mad at you that you didn’t tell me. What, did you think I was going to tie you to a stick and burn you or something? Or hand you over to the government so they can experiment on you?”

Morgause shrugged.

“I don’t know, Arthur. I was just scared... It’s not like we get along that well to begin with,” she said. “Though things have been different lately.”

Arthur smiled. If anything good came out of his breakup with Leon, it was this newfound camaraderie with Morgause.

At that moment, the bell rang.

“Could you get the door, please?” Morgause asked. “I’m almost done.”

Arthur nodded, and found Morgana on the other side of the door.

“Hey,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek and walking into the flat. He hadn’t seen him in ages. Not since he broke up with Leon. “How are you? Where is Morgause?”

“In the kitchen...”

Morgana walked into the kitchen and stopped herself short.

“Er...”

“Oh, hi,” Morgause said. “He knows.”

“Okay,” said Morgana, but she seemed dubious.

“So you did know? About Morgause being... telekinetic or whatever,” he said, frowning.

Morgana nodded.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Stop pouting, Arthur, you’re way past the age when you looked cute doing it,” said Morgana.

Arthur pressed his lips together in a tight line, instead, and frowned.

Morgana grinned.

“Much better, soon you’ll have the Uther wrinkles,” she said, with a grin, and touched the space between Arthur’s eyebrows with her long, manicured nail.

“Oh, shut up,” he said, groaning.

“How do you stand him anyway?” Morgana asked Morgause.

“Well, he cleans after himself and helps doing the dishes,” she said, with a teasing smile. “He’s not a bad roommate.”

Arthur gave Morgana a smug grin.

“So you’re roommates now? This wasn’t a temporary arrangement until he finds his own place?” Morgana asked.

“Oh...” said Morgause, awkwardly.

“I’m a temporary roommate, I guess,” said Arthur.

“And how have you been?” Morgana asked.

Arthur shrugged.

“Fine, I guess. I mean, living with Morgause should drive anyone insane but I’m doing okay so far...”

“Hey!” she said, throwing a drying cloth at his face. “You ungrateful little—”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Morgana, interrupting the little feud, before Arthur could change the topic and avoid the question altogether. Sadly.

“Well... It’s... I’m sad. I miss him. But it’s alright. It really is for the best,” he said, and had to bite his tongue not to ask her about Leon, about how he looked, how he was doing.

Morgana nodded.

“I’m glad you’re seeing things that way,” she said. “Maybe you can stop making excuses and come to family dinners now...”

Arthur winced.

“Not excuses,” said Morgause. “He really is busy and at the office. Do you think I’ll let him get away with going out with his friends or staying here and watch films when he could be with us enduring dad chatting to you about work over dinner and pretending it’s quality time?”

Morgana frowned.

“It’s not that bad. Besides, mum’s worried...”

“Yeah, she is,” said Arthur, twisting his mouth. “I guess I’ll show up next week.”

“You should invite Modred too,” said Morgana. “You guys are really serious, aren’t you?”

Morgause stopped stirring the soup.

“I would prefer not to,” she said.

“Why?” asked Morgana. “I mean, I know dad can be... intimidating, but Mordred seems like he can take it.”

“I don’t feel comfortable,” she said, simply.

Arthur frowned. Morgause didn’t have any reservations or seemed uncomfortable at all when Arthur invited Mordred out with his friends. In fact, she even seemed happy about it. So...

“Why?” he asked.

Morgause shrugged.

“Just... something Uther said. Let’s not talk about this anymore, alright?”

That was Morgause. Alternating between ‘dad’ and ‘Uther’ according to her mood. Morgana used her father’s name, but mostly in a mocking way. For Arthur, it was always dad, or father. But Morgause was quite never defined on that matter. For some reason, Arthur’s mood drop.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll set the table.”

“Thanks.”

He grabbed some plates and slithered away from the kitchen.

*

Morgause did go away for the weekend in a futile attempt to find locations for her new film. Mordred mocked her a little bit, telling her that she already wanted a set when she wasn’t even sure which scenes she was going to film, considering that the script wasn’t finished yet.

Arthur suspected Mordred just wanted Morgause to spend his free weekend with him rather than away from the city. He also suspected that Morgause wanted some time alone to think and solve that little creativity crisis that had been kept her up at nights.

Either way, Arthur ended up spending that weekend with Mordred. Well, part of it at least. They went out for beers on Saturday, just the two of them, and they had fun. Arthur invited him to play football with his friends, whom Mordred had already met once or twice.

After they’d had more than their usual pints, Mordred seemed to open up a little bit more to him.

“Morgause told me,” he said to Arthur. “That you found out about her… abilities.”

Arthur burped, rather inelegantly, and then groaned, throwing his arms up in the air and narrowly avoiding turning over Mordred’s beer on the table.

“Oh. Of course. Of course you knew. Of course she’d tell _you_ , and not me,” he whined.

Mordred didn’t say anything, just stared at Arthur.

“You know, I don’t get her. I was always closer to Morgana, I guess… and we did have a fall out a couple of years ago, Morgause and I,” Arthur continued. “I slept with a guy she liked.”

“O... kay,” said Mordred, looking at Arthur as if he wasn’t completely drunk too.

“Well, no, not exactly like that. I mean. This guy, Cenred. He liked Morgause and had sorta been after her for some time. She always says she loathes him, and I believe her, because he’s loathsome. But one day we all were invited to the same cocktail party, well, dad made us all go, and Morgause rejected Cenred for the twentieth time in a row, and instead, he focused his attention on me…”

Mordred frowned.

“And when she found out you’d slept with him she was upset?”

“To say the least…” Arthur said, and he sighed and took another sip of his beer. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. I mean. You’re her boyfriend and everything…”

Mordred shook his head.

“It’s fine.”

“Well, no. I mean. It wasn’t only my secret to tell. If it was a secret at all,” Arthur shrugged. “I never saw Cenred again. He was hot but Morgause was right, he was disgusting. I think her being upset had more to do with… I think she thought I was doing it to piss her off, or something. I don’t know. She didn’t care about him, though.”

“Okay,” said Mordred again, nodding. He seemed a little lost now, and Arthur wondered if he’d remember this conversation tomorrow.

“Well, that’s water under the bridge… and we’re much closer now… why were we talking about this anyway?” Arthur asked.

Mordred snorted.

“‘Cause you were upset because she told me about her abilities before she told you.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Arthur made a face.

“What d’you think about it?”

“About her moving stuff with her mind?” asked Arthur.

“Yep.”

Arthur shrugged.

“Well… I guess it comes in handy to her from time to time.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“Sure? Aren’t you?” asked Arthur, and leaned forward, giving Mordred what he hoped was a protective angry brother look.

“I am more than totally, absolutely, perfectly fine with it,” said Mordred, and smiled.

“Don’t use that many adverbs ending in –ly in your sentences,” said Arthur.

“What?”

“It reminds me of _Twilight_ , alright?” said Arthur.

Mordred chuckled.

“Okay, so bottom line, we’re both cool with it.”

“Sure. Why do you keep asking?”

Mordred lowered his eyes, and spoke without meeting Arthur’s gaze.

“Because I can do something similar, too.”

“Whoa,” said Arthur. “Really? What can you do?”

Mordred looked up at him.

“I can… sense people’s emotions. Like… a lot, a lot of empathy.”

“Okay,” said Arthur. “What am I feeling right now?”

“Curiosity,” Mordred said with a cheeky smirk.

“Oh c’mon!” said Arthur. “You don’t need to have powers or whatever to know that.”

“No, I don’t, but I don’t want to read you. I can control it. When I was a kid, it was difficult,” said Mordred. “I… It was weird. Being around people, I could feel what they were feeling, and overall I think… I think it made me the awkward mess I am.”

Arthur frowned.

“You seem perfectly, absolutely, totally fine to me. And to Morgause, too,” said Arthur.

Mordred smiled.

“Thanks,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you… because, I think. You’re the closest thing to a close friend I’ve had in ages. I mean, aside from Morgause.”

Arthur smiled.

“Well, I’m not very good at making friends or keeping them either.”

Mordred smiled.

“That’s why… Why I’m trying to become a neurologist. I’m planning on doing research on this kind of phenomena, you know?” he said.

Arthur glowered at him in what he hoped was a menacing way.

“You are not going to take Morgause into a lab and start poking at her with syringes and stuff, right?”

Mordred laughed.

“What! No, Arthur, this isn’t _Fringe_!” he said. “It’s just something I hope I can explain… from a scientific point of view and whatnot,” he said, making a vague gesture with his hand.

Arthur nodded.

“Okay. Then we _are_ cool.”

Mordred grinned.

“I’m glad.”

“Now,” said Arthur. “You shall be the first one to know I’ve found my own place to stay now.”

“Oh,” said Mordred. “You’re moving out, then?”

Arthur nodded.

“Yep. It’s not much, but I think it’s cosy. You’ll see…”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

*

“This doesn’t seem like your usual place. Are you sure about this?” Morgause said, as soon as she stepped into Arthur’s new flat. With some effort, she was sliding two suitcases half her size and weight behind her.

“Yes, I am. And anyway, I already signed the lease contract, so unless I want to lose a ton of money, I have to stay,” said Arthur.

“Alright,” said Morgause, and walked through the short hallway towards the bedroom. Arthur left the two small boxes he was carrying in the middle of the living room. They contained books and, despite their size, were really heavy. He heard Morgana and Mordred struggling in the stairs, trying to get a huge suitcase containing a lot of Arthur’s book upstairs. Arthur rushed to meet them in the first landing, and took the suitcase from Morgana, who happily went downstairs to retrieve a something with clothes, or anything that was less back-breaking.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” said Arthur, as they reached the first floor, which, luckily, was the floor of Arthur’s flat. This building didn’t have an elevator. It was a one room flat, with a full bathroom, a living room and a kitchenette. A lot smaller than Arthur was used to, but it was cheap and available.

“No problem,” said Mordred, with a smile. “I’m glad to be of help.”

Arthur grinned.

“Could you take this to the living room? I’ll go get more stuff...”

“Sure.”

Arthur, Morgana, Mordred and Morgause spent the next hours unloading Arthur’s belongings from Morgause’s and Arthur’s cars, boxes and suitcases full of books and trinkets and clothes. (“Seriously, Arthur, you own more clothes than I do, what the hell is wrong with you? Donate some for those in need!” Morgana had complained, somewhere around her tenth trip upstairs.)

The rest of his belongings—his kitchen supplies, for example, and his dinner service, he’d left them at Leon’s place. It was better like that. He was getting bored of those square, Japanese-like dishes, and he wanted to start anew. He’d only brought his favourite mugs and cups, and his tea set, that used to belong to his biological mother, and that Morgause could’ve broken when she tripped over a ratty mat and almost fell on the floor.

They were all exhausted, hungry and dirty. Arthur had come the day before and thoroughly cleaned the flat, but now it was covered in dust. Between the four of them, they had unpacked a few of the boxes and suitcases, and now at least every box was in the room where their contents belonged.

There wasn’t much furniture in this flat, and Arthur was desperate to go buy several bookcases, but he was way more tired than he was desperate. Morgause and Morgana were half sprawled on the only ratty sofa, and Arthur and Mordred were sitting on the floor.

“I’m starving,” said Morgana, and fished out her mobile from her jeans pocket. “Let’s order in. I feel like Thai, let’s see if there are any restaurants around...”

Arthur moaned.

“Not Thai. Something less spicy.”

“Pizza...” Morgause moaned.

“No, that’s way too many carbs,” said Morgana.

“I don’t care, order pizza.”

“What do you want, Arthur?” asked Mordred.

“Sushi rolls...”

“Oh,” said Mordred, and though he tried to disguise it, it was clear by his face that he didn’t approve.

“What?”

“I don’t like raw fish...”

“Just order pizza, everyone likes pizza, right?” said Morgause.

“But the carbs!”

“Is pizza fine with you, Mordred?” asked Arthur.

“Everything’s fine with me as long as it’s been cooked.”

“Sorry, Morgana, you’ve been outnumbered,” said Arthur.

“No! I refuse to eat all those carbs,” she whined.

“Will you also refuse the beers I have in the fridge?” asked Arthur.

“Oh thank god, I’ll go get them!” said Morgause, jumping off the sofa with way more energy than she should’ve had at this point, and rushed to the kitchenette.

Morgana glared at him.

“You’re not playing fair, Arthur.”

“I love you, Linus!” yelled Morgause, from the kitchenette, and appeared seconds later in the living room with beers for everyone.

“Wait—I don’t mean to pry, but didn’t you mention you were taking sleeping pills?” asked Mordred, just after he handed Arthur his beer.

“I just won’t take it tonight,” said Arthur, shrugging. “I’m too exhausted, I don’t think I’ll need it,” he said, with a small smile.

“So you went to see Gaius after all?” asked Morgana.

Arthur nodded.

“Yep... I meant to do it before Leon and I separated, but...”

“Yeah,” said Morgana, simply. It was a thing she could understand, how you can neglect your personal well-being even if there are signs at every corner screaming you to do something about it.

“Is anyone going to order that pizza?” said Morgause. “Beer is not real food. I learned that years ago.”

“I’ll do it,” said Arthur, pulling out his phone. “Don’t look at me like that, Morgana. We can order some salad for you.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” said Morgana, and smiled. “Order one of those with the special pepperoni.”

Arthur made the call, and afterwards, and a few sips of beer, he started to feel more relaxed and rested.

“You need to buy silverware and a dinner set,” said Morgause, counting with her fingers.

“And sheets, so I can give your set back...”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Keep it as long as you need it.”

“You need furniture,” said Morgana. “A telly, for example.”

“I have my laptop, I don’t need a telly,” said Arthur. He had also left his adored HD television in Leon’s house, and his blu-ray. When they had gone to pick up his stuff, he’d spent a few minutes wondering if it was worth taking all that. When he moved in with Leon to the house, Leon had made a lot of space for Arthur’s things. Somehow, Arthur found that he didn’t mind leaving all that behind.

This felt like a fresh start, and it was nice, even if he knew he was probably going to sacrifice his winter holidays in order to buy furniture.

“But you need bookcases, or at least shelves,” added Morgause.

“You do have a lot of books,” said Mordred. “It’s impressive.”

“Well... To be an editor I kind of have to be a very good reader,” Arthur said, not caring to hide the pride he felt on that.

Mordred opened a box and took out one book.

“You speak German?”

Morgana groaned. Morgause smirked.

“Arthur speaks Spanish, French, Portuguese and German.”

“And a little Italian,” Arthur said.

“Just enough to hook up with guys in Rome,” said Morgana.

Mordred snorted. Arthur grinned.

“Well, I think that if you’re travelling to a foreign country, you should learn how to ask where the restrooms are, and directions in general, and—”

“Come up to my room?” interrupted Morgause.

Arthur nodded.

“Yes, exactly.”

Mordred chuckled.

“So what countries which required you to learn all that have you visited?” he asked.

“Well—”

“Just Italy,” said Morgana. “And he was the one who got picked up. I was there. He’s bluffing.”

Arthur glared at her.

“I was trying to impress Mordred here...”

Morgause laughed.

“No need to do that, he’s already impressed.”

Mordred looked a little abashed. From what Arthur knew, Mordred was an only child who, in spite of his good nature, could come off as creepy and didn’t have that many friends while growing up. That probably had a lot to do with his special ‘abilities,’ as Mordred had called them. Arthur thought it was perhaps his own ego playing tricks with him, but sometimes he felt like Mordred looked up to him somehow. He realised he liked Mordred a lot, too. He never felt like he wanted a brother before (Morgause and Morgana were more than enough, in more ways than one, for him), but right now, he found himself thinking that, age difference aside, he was glad his older sister had fallen in love with a bloke like Mordred.

“I’m glad you two get along,” Morgause said, serious.

Mordred looked at her, and they did that thing that both unnerved and touched Arthur—stare at one another and smile, as if they didn’t need words to understand what the other was thinking.

“Me too,” said Arthur. “And by the way, are you coming to play football with me and the guys next time?” he asked Mordred.

“Oh my god, you like football?” said Morgana, making a face.

“I love it,” said Mordred.

“Well, I just like you a little less for that,” she said.

“I think you should come and watch,” said Arthur. “Gwaine will be there...”

Morgana made a face.

“Hell no. I’d rather go play golf with dad.”

“Seriously?” said Morgause. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I find football as boring as you do, but golf?”

“I am coming,” said Mordred to Arthur, with a small smile. “At 10 a. m., right?”

Arthur ignored his sisters, who were now debating which sport was the most excruciating, and nodded to Mordred.

“Yes,” he said. “Next week Sunday.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good. You haven’t met all the guys, but they’re cool. You’ll like them.”

Mordred nodded.

“Sure. As long as they can play...” he added, teasingly.

Arthur smirked.

“Don’t get cocky.”

*

“It’s just a favour for Lance,” Merlin thought, grumpily, as he made his way in the subway towards an unknown building, on his free day. He wanted nothing but to sleep and read and watch films while eating crisps and ice-cream, but Lancelot called him and asked him for an urgent favour – to take a box of books to his editor. Merlin agreed, because that meant one less box of Lancelot’s stuff in his flat, and because it was a favour from a friend who had no one else to ask.

Merlin found the building pretty easy. It was the huge one, with the huge Caerleon Publishers sign on top. Merlin had never given much thought to who was publishing Lancelot’s books, but they seemed important. It made Merlin thought about how badly Lancelot wanted to go away, if he had to fight these guys to let him go.

He walked into the reception and asked for Lancelot's editor.

“Um, do you have an appointment?” the girl asked, frowning.

“No, but... I come to give him some books from Lancelot du Lac. He said he'd call in advance to let you know...”

“Oh, Lance! Of course!” the girl said, her expression changing instantly into a bright smile. “So you’re Merlin, then?”

“Yes,” said Merlin, returning the smile politely.

“Just take that elevator to the sixth floor, turn left, and it’s the third office to your right. His secretary is a guy named George. I’ll ring him to let him know you're going up,” she said, with a smile.

Merlin thanked her and did was he was told. His arms were starting to get tired from carrying the archive box around. He followed the receptionist’s instructions and found himself in front of a man with a boring haircut and a stiff posture, sitting at an impeccable desk.

“Um, hello. I’m Merlin Emrys. I’m here to see Arthur Pendragon? I have to give him this box; it’s from Lancelot du Lac...”

“Hello, sir. Mr. Pendragon is a bit busy at the moment, but if you’d like, you can leave the box with me and I’ll make sure he receives it.”

Merlin frowned.

“I’m sorry, but Lancelot told me to give it to him personally... No offence, it’s just...” Merlin flushed, unsure. He could just leave it there and go home.

George’s perfect poker face didn’t falter one second.

“Wait a second, please. Take a seat.”

He pointed to some chairs that were next to his desk. Merlin sat there, put the box on the floor, and waited as George went inside the office.

Even through the closed door, Merlin could hear some hollering. He made a face. He’d never actually met Lancelot’s editor, but he didn’t seem like a nice person. At least, he didn’t think George was screaming like that.

George came out, still as pristine and unmoved as when he’d entered.

“Mr. Pendragon is very busy at the moment. He says you can leave the box with me if you want.”

“I wish to see him,” said Merlin, with a frown.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. Unless you wait for some time.”

“How long can it take?”

“About three hours...” said George.

Merlin could tell he was lying. He nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ve nothing else to do. I’ll wait for him.”

“Alright.”

George sat at his desk, and out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw him playing some Facebook game.

Merlin sighed, opened the box. There was an envelope for Arthur Pendragon, which Merlin ignored, and some old books that seemed a bit old. He grabbed the first one. It was in Spanish. The put it back in the box and took out another one. It was a book of French poetry, in French. He tried to read something, but his secondary school French wasn’t good enough for this stuff, and he gave up pretty fast. Then there was an old-ish looking pocket edition of Joseph Conrad's _A Set of Six_. Merlin had never read anything by Joseph Conrad, so he opened the book and started to read the preface. He was exactly three pages into it when George stood up from his desk and moved towards the end of the hallway.

Smiling, Merlin dropped the book back onto the box, closed its lid, and was knocking on Arthur Pendragon’s door just after George disappeared behind the door with the restroom sign on top.

*

Arthur was tired, and angry, and annoyed, and grumpy, and sulking. All those things at the same time and in chronological order. He hadn’t slept well. His new flat was a mess, he couldn’t get any proper rest in that bloody mattress, and he still missed Leon a little, and he missed Morgause’s food, and he even missed Mordred. It was ridiculous. The flat was a mess, and that made him moody, and it was about to get messier with Lancelot deciding to return his borrowed books just now.

Then there was a knock on the door.

“I told you I’m busy, George!” he yelled.

The door opened, tentatively, and Arthur was ready to curse and threaten to fire him, but it wasn’t George.

“I’m sorry, this won’t take long,” said a man—tall and handsome. He was carrying an archive box with him. “I’m here to give you this. See, I would’ve left some time ago, but Lance told me to give them to you in person, for some unfathomable reason. May I come in?”

“You can leave the box there,” said Arthur, coldly, motioning to the side of the door.

“Yeah, um, okay, but...” Merlin left it there, opened the lid and took out the envelope. “Here, this is for you.”

He approached the desk, and offered the letter to Arthur. When Arthur didn’t take it, he left it on it.

“Are you always this charming?” said Merlin, raising an eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I get it, you don’t want me here,” said Merlin. “But being rude to me isn’t going to make me go away. Lancelot asked me to make sure you read that letter in my presence, and since I’m doing a favour for a friend, I need you to please do so, and then I'll leave. It’ll take you five minutes.”

Arthur groaned.

“I’ll call security,” he said.

Merlin shrugged.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever come back to this building, so I wouldn’t mind getting kicked out and banned, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d do just what I asked you to. Believe me, it gives me absolutely no pleasure whatsoever to be in the presence of someone so rude, but I’m doing this for my friend.”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me rude,” Arthur stood up. “Excuse me? You’re the one who barged into my office like you own the place and now you’re calling me rude?” he said.

“There’s not need to raise your voice,” he said. “Now could you please read the letter so this exchange would be over?”

Arthur grabbed the envelope forcefully. He didn’t want to make a scandal. The last thing he needed was something like that at the moment, when Annis was still mad at him for missing several days of work over the whole Leon/moving ordeal. He opened the letter and was about to start reading when he spied, at the corner of his eyes, Merlin looking at his bookcases.

Arthur cleared his throat.

“Do you mind not—” he caught himself.

“What?” said Merlin, turning to him. He was toying with something, some kind of necklace. No, it wasn’t a necklace, it was a ring. Arthur stood up from his desk, walked towards Merlin.

“Uh, what is it?” Merlin moved a couple of steps backwards, the ring still in his finger, unsure, and a bit startled.

“Is that a ring?” Arthur asked.

Merlin looked a little less defensive, but he didn’t let go of it.

“Uh, yes.”

“Can I see it?” he asked, and he probably sounded a bit manic, but he really, really needed to see the ring up close.

“Uh, sure,” said Merlin, he slipped the chain off his neck and handed the ring to Arthur. It was definitely, definitely his engagement ring.

He looked up at Merlin. They were close now, face to face, and he looked oddly familiar.

“Where did you find it?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s eyes widened.

“It’s yours, isn’t it?” he said. “It’s your engagement ring.”

*

Merlin was more than a bit shocked when Arthur Pendragon walked towards him with a crazy look in his eyes, but he got even more freaked out when he realised why. It was him. The guy in his dreams. The one to whom the ring belonged.

Arthur nodded.

“Um, yes, it’s mine,” he said, and shifting his eyes from the ring in his palm to Merlin’s face. Merlin wanted to burst out of the window, and never come back. This couldn’t be happening. He was probably going insane. There was probably no Arthur Pendragon, no box of books, he was probably wandering around some old abandoned building, hallucinating everything.

“Er...” he said, because there was nothing else he could say.

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur, who seemed to gained composure, and cleared his throat. “I’ve had a terrible week. Terrible last couple of weeks, to be honest. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Yes, you did,” said Merlin, with a soft smile, a little less freaked out now that Arthur wasn’t doing the crazy eye thing. “But that’s alright. I get it.”

“So, um,” Arthur said, returning the smile. “I... If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get this ring?”

Merlin blushed.

“I found it.”

“I lost it,” said Arthur.

“Yeah, I thought I could wear it around my neck in case anyone recognised it...” said Merlin, “Everyone told me it was a stupid idea, but... it seemed expensive. And special.”

“It’s not very special anymore,” said Arthur. “But thanks for returning it.”

He slipped it into his pocket, and Merlin did the same with the silver necklace he’d been using to wear it.

“Um, actually,” said Arthur. “It’s lunchtime and I didn’t have breakfast, so I’m starving. I should probably eat something...”

“Yeah?” said Merlin.

“Do you... do you have something to do? Because. You could join me. I-If you want to,” he said, with a shrug, trying to appear nonchalant, but Merlin recognised that look of hopefulness in his eyes. It was new and familiar at the same time. “There’s a nice place two blocks away...” Arthur added.

Merlin smiled, and nodded.

“Sure. I’m Merlin, by the way,” he said.

Arthur nodded, and grinned.

“Merlin,” he repeated, like he had come across a magic word.

*

The café was packed, and Arthur and Merlin had to wait a little to get a table, right next to the queue, where it was uncomfortable. They ordered sandwiches and coffee, and sat together in the high chairs, their knees almost touching below the small circular table.

“So...” Merlin said. “You’re Lance’s editor.”

“So, um... your name is Merlin, right?”

“Yes.”

“Merlin,” he said.

“Yes, and you’re Arthur.”

“Yeah. That’s me.” An awkward pause. “So, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a doctor, actually. I’m in my last year of training to become a psychiatrist.”

“Oh that’s... very impressive.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“Yeah, I mean... I had no idea. Obviously.”

“And you are obviously an editor...”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve always been Lance’s editor?”

“Yes, we’ve been together... Okay, let me rephrase that, we’ve worked together for about five years, when his agent sent me the manuscript of his first novel. I mean, I’m sure you’ve probably heard a lot about me from him.”

“Actually, I haven’t.”

“What? No? Nothing?”

“Well, you know Lance. He’s a good guy, and he doesn’t like talking bad about anyone... I mean, not that he’d... It’s just that, when he mentioned his editor, it was usually when he was stressed, so he just didn’t give me many details, he just... didn’t really elaborate, I guess.”

“Right.”

“Er, but you’d think we would’ve met before, at least in his presentations and readings...”

“Well, the editor doesn’t usually accompany a writer to every event. But I try to be there for the book launch.”

“Oh, well... I don’t think I’ve been to any of his book launches. Unfortunately. I mean, I’ve tried, I always make space, but something happens. The last time one of my patients... well, I’m not allowed to say what happened.”

“Right. You could lose your license and all that.”

“Not exactly, but... yeah. Anyway, I try to go to readings though. Did you go to Camelot’s Book Fair this year? I was there at Lance’s panel...”

“Oh, yes, but I couldn’t make it to the panel. I had meetings... business meetings and that kind of thing.”

“Ah, I see. It’s still weird, though, that we haven’t met before at one of his parties or something like that...”

“I don’t usually go to his parties or anything of the sort.”

“Oh... that explains it.”

“Yeah. Have you two known each other for long?”

“Yes, actually... more than ten years. We’d both just arrived to Camelot. I was in my first semester at uni, and he was... well, working and trying to write.”

“I don’t know much about him from that time.”

“Oh, actually, when we met... it’s a funny story. It was December, the end of my first semester, and I was finally free to go all debauch and whatnot... I wanted to go to clubs and pubs I haven’t been to, and I had a date. So I went out with this guy, and we got really drunk, and then we went to a club. A gay club, and Lancelot was the bartender. I mean... You can imagine, Lancelot, this really gorgeous guy...”

A chuckle.

“...Who’s also straight...”

“Yeah, well, the guy I was with hit on him. And it got awkward. But Lancelot rejected him nicely and the guy went bananas, and the bouncer had to take him out, but by that time I was not only totally drunk but also super upset because, yeah... how can you go out with someone and then try to hook up with another person?”

“Douchebag.”

“Yeah. Anyway, Lancelot was really nice to me. Like, you know him. He’s ridiculously nice. We became friends almost instantly. He had recently arrived to the city too. He’s originally from Daobeth, but his dad is from France and his mum from Chile.”

“I know that story... They got married and moved to Camelot, right?”

“Yep. And when Lancelot was 19 and he’d decided not to go to uni or any of that stuff, they went back to France because his dad was transferred... And Lancelot wanted to stay, so he moved to Camelot City, and started his life anew, from scratch. So we were both new in the place and we clicked instantly... He’s an amazing guy, really.”

“Yeah.”

“Um, I... Well, we’re really good _friends_. I was actually the one who introduced him to Gwen. You should’ve seen them... it was love at first sight. He was head over heels the moment he saw her.”

“That seems a bit shallow.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, I usually think that. I mean, you can see a person and think they’re attractive, but that doesn’t mean you’re in love with them. I mean love and lust aren’t the same thing.”

“Definitely.”

“But he was... I don’t know, they had this weird connection. Gwen was a bit reluctant. Or more like, busy and oblivious, and Lancelot wooed her, but it was like... they obviously liked each other, and they got to know each other without actually spending so much time together? I don’t know, they just... clicked...they had chemistry.”

“Are they still together? I didn’t know if she’d gone with him, to be honest...”

“No, um. You do know her, right?”

“I know her; I know she’s a doctor, but...”

“Yeah, well. They broke up.”

Silence.

“So... um, enough about my friend. Tell me something about yourself.”

“Like... what?”

“I don’t know. I mean. Where were you born? Do you like your job? Do you have siblings? Are you single?”

Eyebrow wiggle. A chuckle. A stupid question to ask, given that Merlin had just returned Arthur’s _engagement right_ , but he had to try anyway.

“Yes, I am single. I just. I... recently um. I broke up with my fiancé.”

“What? Really? Um, I’m sorry to hear that.”

A smile.

“Are you, really?”

“Well, if he wasn’t good to you, I’m not. And if you weren’t good to him, I’m not, either. I mean... if people aren’t well together it’s better to break it off.”

“That’s so clever, Merlin, is that how you therapise your patients?”

“Hey! Therapise isn’t a verb!”

“I am an editor; I get to decide what an accepted word is and what isn’t.”

“No, you don’t, it’s the masses, the speakers, the people who decide what a word is and what isn’t.”

“Oh wow, the people? Are you a communist, Merlin? Perhaps you’d get along with my sister...”

“You have a sister?”

“Two, actually. One older, one younger. Well, technically, the older is just my stepsister, and the younger is my half-sister.”

“How’s that?”

“My mum died at childbirth. A few months later, my dad married a widow, who already had a kid—my stepsister, Morgause. Then they had Morgana together.”

“Oh, you have a big family. That’s nice.”

“What about you?”

“Well, me and my parents. And my friend, Will, from my hometown, who’s like a brother to me.”

“Where are you from?”

“Ealdor.”

“That’s in...?”

“Essetir. I don’t blame you for not knowing it, it’s super small. Population: ten thousand. Mostly rural, but... a nice place to grow up.”

“Ah, I see. It must be nice. I mean, Essetir is nice.”

“Yeah. And you’re from Camelot?”

“Yes, I’ve lived here all my life. It’s the best city in the world.”

“Is it? My mum says it’s Paris.”

“Pfft, French!”

“Hey, Lancelot is half French.”

“Exactly! And even he wouldn’t go to France.”

“Why don’t you like it?”

“Oh, I love France. But I may or may not have a particular grudge about a French guy...”

“Ah, I see...”

“Yeah...”

“And, Merlin. Um. So your parents are in Ealdor, then?”

“Yes, they live there. I visit every six months or so, if I can. I was there last summer...”

“But you weren’t there last Christmas.”

“Um, no, you’re right. Actually, I was—I went to Costa Rica.”

“Oh, _pura vida_!”

“Yes... it was nice. But not so much.”

“Why not? Was the sun too much for your pasty skin?”

“My skin is nice! And that sun is bad for you, you know? You should wear sunscreen if you don’t want to get skin cancer and die...”

“I’m sorry, I was just joking.”

“Oh. I didn’t think it was funny.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean.... Okay, never mind.”

“You were saying you didn’t like Costa Rica because...”

“I loved it there, but... I was there with my ex. And the trip was kind of a desperate measure to try to save our relationship, and it didn’t work. So it’s bittersweet.”

“I see... You guys had been together for long, right?”

“Yep. But you’ve been there too, haven’t you? To Costa Rica.”

“Yes, when I was fourteen. Morgause turned sixteen and since it was her dream to see a real sloth or something like that, we went there during Spring Break. It was nice.”

“I can imagine that.”

“Though right now I don’t remember many places I visited...”

“You... you went to Cabo Blanco, didn’t you? The natural reserve?”

“What... Yes. Yes.”

“The one with the bugs and the howling monkeys...”

“Yes, that one. How?”

Merlin shrugged.

“I, um... I’m sorry about your ring.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter much anymore.”

“Didn’t your fiancé want it back?”

“No, actually he... It doesn’t matter, really. I’ll just sell it or something.”

“It looks expensive.”

“It was expensive.”

“Could you go again to Costa Rica with it?”

“Maybe not that expensive. But it’s enough to buy you dinner, if you... if you’d like to have dinner with me. I mean, I really can’t today but... later?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I need to check, let me just...”

“Oh, right, I should give you my number...”

“Yes. There it is.”

“What are those signs next to it?”

“It’s an emoticon.”

“Yeah but what’s...”

“It’s me. Merlin... the c is my ear.”

“Oh.”

“If I make fun of them myself, then people won’t do it.”

“Do they teach you that at med school?”

“I learned that in the streets.”

“Right. The though life of a wee little town in the countryside...”

“Exactly. You didn’t know what kind of dangers we had to face every other day!”

“I bet squirrels could be scary.”

“You bet.”

“Well... It was nice meeting you. I mean, honestly. Merlin.”

“You keep saying my name like you don’t believe that’s my name, _Arthur_.”

“Well... it’s just nice to have a name to attach to the body. Face. I mean—”

“Yeah. I think so, too.”

“You’ll call me, then?”

“Sure. As soon as I know when I’ll be available.”

“Good.”

“Alright. So. Um. Have a nice day, then.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

*

“Hey, you!” said Merlin, on the phone, excitedly. “I just came back from seeing your editor and giving him your box of treasures.”

“It was his box of treasures,” said Lancelot, on the other side of the line. He sounded distant. “Sorry if I’ve got bad signal, I’m hiking.”

“You’re hiking?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Weren’t you in... Valparaiso?” said Merlin.

“Yes, but I went further south. It’s gorgeous here, Merlin, you should come and visit me.”

“Yeah, right, and go camping? Thanks, but no thanks. I was never a Boy Scout.”

“You promised you wouldn’t make fun of that! Besides, if we were lost in the wilderness, I’d be your only hope,” said Lance, with a chuckle.

“I’d rather not get lost in the wilderness in the first place,” said Merlin. “But you didn’t let me finish. I took your box to your editor, or his box, whatever.”

“Oh, yes, tell me. What did he say about the letter?”

“Oh... I forgot about that. But! Don’t get mad at me!”

“I wouldn’t get mad at you, it’s alright. I’m sure he’ll read it eventually,” said Lancelot, softly. “Thanks for giving it to him.”

“No, no, it’s just. I wanted him to read it but then... he asked me out to lunch.”

“No way. No way. No. Way.”

“What? He’s... hot,” said Merlin, and for the first time he was very glad Lance was thousands of miles away because he wouldn’t be able to see him blushing like a lovesick thirteen year old.

“But... Arthur? Really? I knew for sure he was engaged. I met his boyfriend and everything. They’d been together forever.”

“Not anymore,” said Merlin.

“Wow. Well, then... in that case, it’s better that he didn’t read the letter because I wished him lots of luck in his marriage.”

Merlin chuckled.

“Though he must be doing alright if he asked you out so soon. I mean...” said Lancelot. “After such a long relationship...”

“What, do you think he’s a manwhore?”

“No, no, no! That’s not what I meant. Did you two have fun?”

“Well, yes. Mostly, we talked about you and how annoying it is that you’re spending your savings hiking in Chile and not writing,” said Merlin.

“I’ve been writing! And this is all research, you know!” said Lancelot, laughing. “But I’m glad I gave you a topic of conversation.”

“Well... we’ll go out again.”

“Really? That’s great,” said Lancelot. “I mean, Arthur. He can be a bit...”

“Pigheaded? Twat?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Because you’re too nice to talk shit about other people, but I did get my share of his supercilious side before he asked me out.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah...”

“But he’s a good guy, you know?” said Lancelot. “I think you might be good for him.”

“Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself, we only had lunch.”

“Yeah, I am getting ahead. _You’re_ the one who called me instantly to tell me all the details.”

Merlin sighed.

“Lance... remember what I told you about my dream? I mean, the guy I dreamed about, constantly?”

“Like in the García Márquez short story?” said Lancelot. “I thought that you’d just made that up.”

“No! It was the truth!” said Merlin. “It was the greatest secret I’ve ever told you and you thought it was a lie!”

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” said Lance, laughing. “But it doesn’t make much sense...”

“Yes...” said Merlin. “It’s stupid, ridiculous, absurd, and impossible. But there he was. He is the one.”

“Wow, you’re sounding a bit crazy after just one date...”

“Hey! Don’t mock me, Lancelot. I’m telling you. I know... stuff about him. And he knows stuff about me. It’s so weird.”

“Have you talked to him about the dreams?”

“No, not yet. I don’t want to seem like a nut.”

“Well, you’re doing a very good job at that...”

“Hey!”

“I’m just kidding, Merlin. It’s alright. Don’t worry too much about it. Just... get to know Arthur. He may or may not be your perfect guy, but does it matter that much in the end? I mean. If you like him, just keep seeing him, and see what happens...” said Lancelot.

“I guess so.”

“Listen, I gotta go now, because I don’t wanna run out of batteries, and my cousins are glaring at me for pulling them back.”

“Oh, right. Your great hiking adventure.”

“I’ll go see the glaciers, too!” he said, excitedly. “I’ll send you a postcard.”

“Okay. Talk to you later, then.”

“Hey, Merlin... before we hang up. How is Gwen?”

Merlin thought of how to answer for so long that Lance called out his name.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Merlin. “She’s doing alright. She misses you, though. Same as me.”

“Yeah,” said Lancelot. “I miss you guys too.”

“We’ll talk later,” said Merlin. “Now go conquer the Andes or whatever...”

Lancelot laughed.

“Talk to you soon, Merlin.”

*

Arthur’s new flat was a mess, not to mention, it probably wasn’t big enough for all his belongings. His books were in boxes, just like pretty much all of his stuff. It had a nice mantelpiece, but Arthur didn’t want to put any pictures or anything there yet, not before his books were in place and he’d bought some furniture. He only had a ratty sofa and a coffee table, and the fridge was too small.

He stopped on the way home to buy some groceries and told himself he would make dinner, but when he arrived, the view was so discouraging he decided he could go without messing the kitchen even more and then cleaning after it, so he ordered a pizza.

He went into his room, and changed into sweatpants and an old t-shirt. Morgause and Morgana had helped him hang most of his suits in the closet, but the rest of it was still a mess, scattered in small and big suitcases, getting wrinkles and gathering dust. Dust!

Arthur groaned. He still had some time before his pizza arrived, and some time before going to bed, to try to make some sense in his new and tiny room. But he didn’t have much space for clothes, let alone anything else.

He should’ve gone to a hotel and leave most of his stuff at Morgause’s, rather than jumping for the first flat available, especially since it was a semi-furnished one. He needed furniture, he needed...

He lay down on his bed. He thought of Merlin. His name was Merlin, and Arthur had no doubt he’d been dreaming about him for his entire life. He knew Merlin was an only child before he had said so. The way he smiled, so open, so sweet, was familiar, comforting. The way he laughed, and his eyes became two small crescent moons, and the laugh lines in his face, and the way he raised his eyebrow when he was judging Arthur. He couldn’t understand how someone so gangly could be so strikingly handsome. He had perfect cheekbones, and even his clumsy movements had a touch of adorableness to it, even if Arthur had never really had a tad of patience for clumsy people and wasn’t into the whole awkward thing. But Merlin was different.

His lips, full, and temping, and Arthur knew he’d kissed him before, knew he’d recognise his taste, his style, if he could just kiss him again.

It was ridiculous. He was besotted, and he’d just met him.

And yet, he couldn’t just have met him. He’d have to talk to Gaius about this. Maybe now that he was down and alone and trying to get over Leon, he was just projecting his most ridiculous fantasies onto the first guy he came across.

But then again, Merlin had had his ring. Well, it was no longer his. Arthur felt a pang of guilt, thinking about Leon. He still missed him. Just this morning, he’d been entirely miserable waking up without him.

That was over, though. Was there a law that forbade from move on too fast?

It’d been a month since he’d seen Leon. Not since they said goodbye that night, because Morgause made sure Leon wasn’t home when they went to pick up Arthur’s stuff. Arthur wanted to talk to him, but knew there was no use.

Would it do them any good if he returned the ring now? It was the right thing to do. Leon had bought it, after all. Maybe he could return it and go on a vacation somewhere nice. Meet someone new. But what would that be for Leon. “Hey, remember the ring that caused us to break up? Guess what! I found it. Cheers. No love, Arthur.”

There was someone at the door. Probably his pizza. Arthur got out of bed and as he navigated his way through boxes towards the front door, he made sure to remember to make a new appointment with Gaius for as soon as the old man could see him. He was probably going insane.

*

“Am I going insane?” asked Arthur, making a face.

It was unnerving. He’d met Gaius before, and he had zero control over his facial expressions. He did the eyebrow thing when he disapproved, he smiled openly, he had his “I’m bullshitting you because you’re annoying and I want you off my back” face, too. And yet, whenever they were in the therapy room, it was as if Gaius transformed. All he could show as a perfect poker face. No judgment. No approval, no disapproval. No nothing. It was frustrating.

“I don’t know Arthur. You said you met this guy, and he’s... someone you’ve been dreaming about for some time?” he asked him, frowning. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure,” said Arthur. “I knew stuff about him. He knew stuff about me. It was weird, Gaius, but it was also... amazing,” said Arthur, with a small smile.

“Couldn’t it just be that you guys have a lot of chemistry?” said Gaius, offering him a small smile. This was a new one. It was slightly condescending, but not quite so.

Arthur shrugged.

“I’m just asking you... you’re a psychiatrist, I’m sure you’ve studied lots of stuff about dreams and, well... do you think, do you think it is possible to dream of someone your entire life and then realise they’re real? Meet them? Some kind of weird, dream-walking thing, or like... what do they call it? Astral travelling?”

Gaius’ poker face was back.

“Personally, I don’t believe it’s possible. I haven’t conducted research specifically about dreams, but I still believe it’s impossible. We’re not separate entities, Arthur. Your mind can’t leave your body. Your mind is your body, your brain,” he said.

Arthur made a face.

“So you don’t believe me,” said Arthur, and he hated how much he sounded like a disappointed child.

“Whether I believe you or not is irrelevant, Arthur. What’s important is what you believe.”

“Well, I believe he’s got to be the one I’ve been dreaming about for years.”

“And does it matter if he is?” asked Gaius. “Or if he’s just one person you met fortuitously?”

Arthur lowered his eyes.

“I guess it doesn’t make much of a difference in the end,” he muttered.

“Don’t worry too much, Arthur,” said Gaius. “If you like this guy, go out with him. Get to know him. To _really_ know _him_.”

Arthur nodded.

“There’s something else, though.”

“Tell me.”

“I worry that I... I may be moving on too fast.”

“What was your pattern before with Leon?” Gaius asked. “You’ve said you were on and off for a long time...”

“Well, the first time we broke up, I... I stayed single for a while. Just the thought of being with somebody else was absurd for me; I thought Leon was the only one for me. So I just... didn’t really date anyone for a year or so. But we were still friends. It was confusing, because, after a few weeks of the break up, we became friends again, except, we weren’t really friends. There was always something more, you know? Some chance to go back together. Except we didn’t, because he started dating other people. Well, one guy. It seemed serious. I was heartbroken,” Arthur smiled. “And pining. And then they broke up, and we got back together. The next time I just... we were at uni, so it was more like I... I didn’t date anyone formally, but I had a few flings. Then I dated someone for real, but it didn’t last long. And when we split up, Leon was there...”

Gaius frowned.

“Have you discovered any pattern? In your behaviour and in your feelings about the whole ordeal...”

Arthur thought about it for a moment.

“I always... I don’t know. I guess I always felt like I could go back to him if I wanted to. Like he’d always be there. And I think he thought the same, too. We took each other for granted.”

“And right now? If this relationship you’re attempting to forge with a new person doesn’t work out the way you want it?”

“I can’t go back to Leon,” said Arthur. “And that is terrifying...”

Gaius nodded.

“But you know it.”

“Yeah...”

“That’s what’s different this time.”

Arthur gulped, and nodded. The realisation was both terrifying, and incredibly empowering.

*

Dinner—it seems easy, but it’s not that easily done. Well, not for Merlin, at least. He used to be good at dating, ages ago, when he was a student, before he met Edwin, before Daegal cheated and made him feel like a fool and completely out of the game when, honestly, Merlin was barely in his thirties, it was ridiculous.

But here he was, doubting himself, wondering what to wear. Dinner and a movie, they’d said.

But what kind of restaurant would Arthur take him to? Would it be fancy? Arthur looked like a fancy guy, not to mention, the kind of person used to everyone and everything bending to his will just because of... his face? His money? But Arthur was more than that. Merlin just knew.

Except, he couldn’t just tell Arthur why.

He tried on a blue shirt that, according to Gwen, was two sizes too big for him, but he didn’t care. He never felt comfortable wearing anything but baggy clothes. Besides, it kind of showed off his collarbones, a little bit.

“You look like a skeleton in an oversized shirt,” he told himself in the mirror.

From where she was sitting, on top of his unmade bed, Aithusa purred, as if agreeing with him. Merlin turned and glared at her. “Why can’t I have more meat in my bones? Should I start working out or something?” he asked her, but her face remained impassive and bored. Big, blue eyes blinking, her tail moving. She didn’t open her mouth, except to yawn.

“Oh god, now I’m asking my cat for advice,” he muttered, annoyed, and turned back to the mirror, fumbling with his hair.

His bloody hair. Why did he think cutting it like this was a good idea anyway? Well, he couldn't just let it grow too much, being in the hospital and all that, but still, he could’ve tried something else, something that didn’t advertise his huge Dumbo ears that caused him so many mortifying moments while growing up. He thought of wearing a beanie to hide them, but then again, it didn’t go well with the rest of his outfit, and Arthur had already seen them anyway.

Then he remembered, faintly, like he remembered everything Arthur-related, the way it felt when Arthur nibbled on his earlobes. Which had never happened, except it had. In a dream. Yeah, right.

“Argh, stop it!” he said out loud, and pressed the heels of his hand to his eyes, as if he were getting a headache—which he wasn’t, but this felt like the kind of situation he’d get a stress headache.

Aithusa purred again. She jumped off the bed, and rubbed herself on his legs, as if saying “It’s alright.” Either that or, “I’m bored, pay attention to me.”

Regardless of her intention, it helped him snap out of it. He was over thinking this. Arthur was just another guy. Sure, he was hot, but that didn’t mean Merlin had to revert to his insecure 14 year old self. It was just a date.

He took a deep breath and petted Aithusa. Then he grabbed his phone, his keys and his wallet, and left his flat before he got late.

*

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Mithian asked, concern obvious in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “I just… I guess I wasn’t ready to talk about it with everyone.”

“Oh, now I’m ‘everyone’?” she said, and though she sounded a bit offended, Arthur knew she was only joking. Mithian was far too understanding and tolerant to get upset about something like this.

“I said I was sorry,” said Arthur, “But it’s not like I wanted to announce to everyone in my life that Leon and I are no longer getting married. Plus, you live in France, it’s not as if we see each other every day and I kept it hidden from you.”

“I know, I know,” she said, “But still… I wish I could be there for you, you know?”

“I do know. And don’t worry about it, Mithian, really. I’m fine.”

“You sound fine,” she said. “I’m glad. Are you certain about the decision, then?”

“I am,” Arthur said, and smiled, “And by the way, I need to go now. I’ve got a date to prepare for.”

“Oh, come on!” she exclaimed, “So you didn’t call me to tell me you broke up with Leon. You called to brag about how fast you got a new date.”

“Don’t judge me. He’s handsome,” said Arthur.

Mithian laughed.

“I’m pretty sure there’s more to him than just his body,” she said, “So you are going to call me later and tell me all the details, alright?”

“What? No! Mithian, we’re not 16 year old kids anymore…”

“But I wanna know who stole you away from Leon!” she whined.

“No one stole me away!” said Arthur, appalled, “I met him afterwards.”

Well, it wasn’t technically true, but the truth was far too complicated to tell in a phone call.

“I know, Arthur,” she said, her voice warm with fondness, “But you’ll call me more often now?”

“I will.”

“Good.”

“I have to go now…”

“Alright, alright,” she said, “Go to your date.”

“I will. And Mithian?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks. You’re a good friend too.”

*

They met outside the cinema. Arthur was wearing jeans and well, a blue shirt. Except that colour looked amazing on him. Now they looked like they were in uniform. Embarrassing.

“Oh, um, hi,” Merlin said, with a smile and a wave, as he approached him. “Looks like we both like blue...”

And now he had brought it up. Great. _Well done, insecure 14 year old_ , he thought.

But Arthur chuckled and shrugged.

“So it would seem,” he said. “What would you like to watch? You mentioned...”

“Anything but a rom com,” he said.

They stared at the marquee and the posters. There was a huge one with Vivian Olaf.

“That’s the one I don’t wanna see...” said Merlin, frowning.

“Oh... I know that woman,” said Arthur. “She worked with my sister in one of her movies...”

Merlin frowned.

“Your sister is... what is she, an actress?”

“A low-budget, independent filmmaker, I believe is her official title,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Seriously?” said Merlin. “And she made a movie with Vivian Olaf?”

“It was a nightmare for Morgause, but the movie gained her some recognition... and did put Vivian on the spotlight for a little while. From there, she jumped onto another film, which is the one that ultimately took her to Hollywood,” Arthur said.

“Oh... wow,” said Merlin. “So no Vivian Olaf, then?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t want to watch a rom com?”

“Oh no. But nothing depressing either...”

“An action film? Isn’t there a superheroes movie coming up soon?” asked Arthur.

“Yeah but those are kind of...” said Merlin, not feeling very enthusiastic.

“Yeah...” Arthur agreed.

In the end, they settled for some Japanese animated film, which was being exhibited in a smaller room. There were only a few more people in it, and Arthur and Merlin were able to sit right in the middle. It was nice.

The film was lovely, and about two hours later, they left the theatre with smiles on their faces.

“Now that was sweet,” said Merlin.

“Yeah,” Arthur said with a smile and a nod.

“Soooo...” said Merlin. “Do you want something to eat? Pizza, maybe?” he offered, because really, he didn’t want to go somewhere fancy. Those places always made him uncomfortable.

“Pizza sounds awesome. Though I've been eating a lot of that lately,” he added.

“Oh, um... Chinese, then? I’m up for anything, really...”

“I think there’s some sushi bar nearby... you like sushi?”

“Sure,” said Merlin, nodding. And off they were, to that sushi place.

*

Arthur had been nervous, really nervous. He wasn’t sure what kind of films Merlin liked, but somehow, they ended up watching something that, albeit directed to 8 year olds, was good enough for both of them. Now it was the matter of food. He wondered why he was so neurotic about this, why he wanted everything to be perfect. It took him a moment to realise he was scolding at the menu.

“We could, um, sit at the counter and get something from the convey belt...” Merlin offered. “If that’s more appealing to you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” said Arthur, shaking his head, trying to smile.

“Don’t worry,” said Merlin. “It’s alright.”

The smile he gave Arthur was blinding.

Now Merlin had an interesting face. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but he had killer cheekbones, amazing eyes, tempting lips, and, oh, okay, no need to stare like a creep, it was technically their first date. Or second. Which one counts? What counts?

The waitress appeared.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked.

“Um, could you give us a few more minutes, please?” Merlin asked.

“Sure,” she said, and disappeared.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked. “You seem...”

“I’m fine,” Arthur blurted out. “Just a bit... Er, tired.”

“Oh,” said Merlin, and his face fell for a second.

No, no, that had been the wrong thing to say. Now it seemed like Arthur wasn’t enjoying his company—which he totally was, he was just freaking out because, well, this was Merlin (Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, he finally had a name to attach to that face, to that presence in his dreams that had always been too good to be true, and turned out to be true, or at least, real, after all).

“I mean,” Arthur added abruptly. “I’m having fun. I am enjoying your company, I’m just a bit nervous. I didn’t expect to... to go back to dating so soon, and um, yeah, now I brought up my ex and...”

Merlin looked at him, but his features had softened.

“It’s alright,” he said. “I’m a bit nervous too. But... you don’t have to be nervous,” he told Arthur, but it sounded like he wanted to convince himself instead, “It’s alright.”

He gave Arthur another blinding smile, and he found himself smiling back, because it was impossible not to.

“I mean, you already have the privilege of having dinner with me, you might as well enjoy it while it lasts,” added Merlin, cheekily.

Arthur shook his head.

“Yeah, I’m having second thoughts about it,” he said. “You seem a little bit too airheaded. I mean, picking kiddie film, tsk tsk...”

“Oi!” said Merlin, laughing. “A kiddie film you agreed to watch with me, so who’s the airhead?”

“Are you ready to order yet?” the waitress was suddenly back, and she looked at them as if saying “you both are the airheads.”

“I’ll have the pork ramen,” Arthur said, giving up with the sushi, and smiling at the waitress. She took his menu, and turned her attention to Merlin, who carefully selected a bunch of pieces with names Arthur didn’t get. The waitress was soon gone.

“So...” said Arthur, “You like Japanese films, you can pronounce the names of Japanese dishes... are you secretly an otaku?”

“What’s an otaku?”

Oh.

Arthur blushed.

“Um, it’s a. Um. A guy or girl who’s kind of—”

Merlin snorted and started to laugh.

“I know what an otaku is, Arthur,” he said with another cheeky grin. “And no, I’m not one. I don’t have a human size pillow with the drawing of a cartoon character printed on its case,” he said.

“Do people do that?” asked Arthur, frowning.

“So I’ve been told,” said Merlin. “But I don’t have a particular interest in Japanese culture... I mean, not more than any other, I guess.”

“Oh,” said Arthur. “What are you interested in, then?”

“Crazy people,” said Merlin. “And books. And films.”

“Sports?”

“Nah.”

  
“Oh. I play football, occasionally. I love it.”

“You do look the sporty type, I guess.”

“Am I just confirming your assumptions about me?”

“What? No? Why would I assume anything about you?” said Merlin, frowning.

“No, it’s just...” Arthur bit his lip. Did Merlin know? He had to know. He couldn’t just... He had the ring. He had to know how it had come across him. This pretence was kind of tiring. “Um. Let me guess. _Just guess_. You love _Lord of the Rings_. You grew up in a small town, and your first time in Camelot was when you were here for your university application process. Well, you told me that already, but, anyway… Your best friend, not Lancelot, is going to get married sometime soon, in the winter. You have a wooden dragon that your father gave you—it’s a pretty piece, a winged dragon. It seems like the work of a sculptor or a cabinetmaker, though I don’t know what he does...” he trailed off, unsure. He was just blurting out a bunch of facts.

Merlin nodded. He took a sip of his beer (Asahi) and looked at Arthur straight in the eyes.

“Your ex was your high school sweetheart... you guys have known each other for ages, and you were on and off for a long time. You like football, yes, and also for some unfathomable reason, fencing and equestrianism. Your father wanted to go into the family business but you refused and went for what you wanted, which, I just found out the other day, is publishing...”

“Yeah...” said Arthur.

“And,” added Merlin, raising his eyebrow, “You have a birthmark. It looks kind of like a sword, or a toothpick, on your right hip.”

Arthur blushed.

“Yeah,” he managed to say.

Merlin didn’t look mortified at all. Arthur wasn’t sure that was relaxing or terrifying.

“So,” Merlin added, “As I told you, I was born and raised in Ealdor. My mother is a nurse, well, she was a nurse in the local hospital, she’s retired now. My dad’s a cabinetmaker.”

Arthur nodded.

“My mum is a homemaker. My father owns an advertising company. Where exactly is Ealdor?”

“Just about... two hours to the East, by bus, from Essetir.”

“You mentioned it wasn’t a big town.”

“No, it’s rural. Mostly... forests. It’s nice,” said Merlin. “Except for the small-minded people and the fact that there’s absolutely nothing to do...”

“You could go exploring the woods, hiking,” said Arthur, with a shrug.

“Like I said, I’m not the sporty type. I never really liked camping.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s full of bugs and snakes and... all sorts of nasty bugs out there,” said Merlin, making a face. “It’s awful.”

“What about hunting?”

“That’s just cruel!”

“Yeah, I agree,” said Arthur. “I mean, not about camping, I think that’s awesome. But my old man likes hunting. I never liked it; I refuse to shoot innocent animals just for the fun of it.”

“There’s really no fun in it,” said Merlin. “I mean, with all due respect to your father...”

Arthur smiled.

Well, finally, they agreed on something other than a kiddie film.

*

Arthur had brought his car and offered Merlin a ride home, but he refused politely, said he was alright with taking the subway. So they stood together outside the stairs leading down to the station. The sun had long since set, and people were coming and going, leaving them not much space to stand in the middle of the pavement and fumble their goodbyes and promises to meet again. The wind of autumn was blowing, fresh, and in the back of his head, Arthur thought it might rain soon.

But mainly, he was just thinking about the way Merlin was smiling at him, a very peculiar and inviting glint in his eyes that made Arthur think that he may have the same expectations as he did. Arthur could only think, or more like observe the way Merlin had licked his lips, and his last barrier crashed and burned; he leaned forward, almost as in a trance, and kissed him.

After weeks of heartache, and days of stress and doubts and anxiety, kissing him felt like coming home. He was slightly taller than Arthur, and his lips were as enticing as they had seen, and it was all very familiar. Arthur’s body remembered in a warm and blurry way, but also extremely clear, real. Arthur was hyper aware of everything, the way Merlin grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer, the little space between them, the scent of Merlin’s cologne, his faint stubble, the noisy people around them, going to and fro, and most of all, he was aware of the pounding of his heart, of a pleasant ache in his chest. He felt exhilarated.

“Hey,” Merlin muttered, brushing his lips once again, before pulling away just a little. “I gotta go now... I need to be up tomorrow at five in the morning...”

He was saying it like he was trying to convince himself, rather than give Arthur an excuse. So Arthur grinned at him – he tried to be sexy, but he knew it was that stupid, lovesick grin his sisters always teased him about – and said, “Then you might as well not sleep tonight.”

“Ah!” said Merlin, feigning surprise, and kissed him again, quick, chaste. “That’s very tempting. But I’m too old for that...”

Arthur made a sound of protest with the back of his throat.

“No, I mean! Not too old for sex,” Merlin added and chuckled. “Just too old to stay up all night and then work for 24 hours straight.”

Arthur nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “Next time, we can wear red shirts instead of blue ones...” he offered, motioning to that embarrassing matching clothes thingy they’d inadvertently done.

Merlin laughed.

“Maybe. You’ll have to call me beforehand so we can decide on a colour,” he said.

“So... are you free this weekend?” Arthur asked.

“Sure,” said Merlin. “I’m going to be stuck at the hospital for the rest of the week but I’ll get Saturday and Sunday off.”

“Wow! Like a normal person!”

“Shut up, I bet you’re a complete workaholic too. Lancelot used to complain about getting e-mails from you at two in the morning,” Merlin said, but his tone was teasing and light.

“Well, he should’ve just silenced his phone at nights,” said Arthur.

Merlin grinned.

“So... weekend it is, then?”

“Yep. I’ll think of something other than dinner and a movie,” he added, hurriedly. “I mean. Not that this wasn’t nice, but—”

“It’s alright,” said Merlin. “I enjoyed this. I’ve the feeling that as long as I’m capable of making fun of you, it’ll be alright.”

“Ha bloody ha,” said Arthur. “Well I might be reconsidering this next date...”

Merlin leaned forward, and gave him one last kiss.

“No, you’re not,” he said, and smiled cheekily at him, before turning away and disappearing into the tube station.

*

Friday dinner at his parents’ was not something Arthur was looking forward to, but he decided to attend this time nevertheless. His sisters had insisted, his mum was worried, and well, he was feeling a lot better since his date with Merlin earlier in the week. His flat was in a better state, too. He was still not sure he’d made the right choice, way too hasty to get out of Morgause’s place and get off her back, in spite of her reassurances that it was more than alright to stay as long as she needed.

He’d signed a contract for a year now, and he’d have to stay there. He might as well start buying some furniture.

He thought about these things as he drove to his parents’ house, in a rich side of town, clean and well lit. His flat wasn’t as fancy, but it was closer to work (he could, perhaps, go all hipster and start biking rather than driving to work, or even taking the bus), and starting to feel like a new home.

Arthur was the first one of his siblings to arrive. His mother looked delighted and happy to have him there, kissed him, hugged him, asked him all sorts of uncomfortable questions, muttering in the foyer like she didn’t want Uther to listen.

“I’m fine, mum,” Arthur said, with a smile. “I really am. Seriously. I was just busy and... moving, that kind of stuff.”

Vivienne fixed him a dark glare, “And I was born yesterday...” she said. “How are you feeling about Leon?”

Arthur shrugged.

“I’m doing fine. I mean... sure, I’m a bit sad, but. But it’ll pass.”

He didn’t want to say it might already have passed. He really felt amazing with Merlin, even though he barely knew the guy. He just didn’t particularly want to think about the fact that, if things with Merlin didn’t work out, he wouldn’t have Leon to fall back onto. So far, everything was sunshine and rainbows, and if the weather cleared by the weekend, they might go on an outdoor date, as Arthur was planning. He wanted to slowly and inconspicuously draw Merlin into the world of sports.

“Arthur?” Vivienne said.

“Sorry, mum. I’m alright,” he said. “Where’s dad?”

“At the studio, waiting.”

At that moment, the doorbell rang again, and Morgana and Morgause, together, appeared behind it.

“Oh,” said Vivienne, looking at Morgause without caring to disguise her disappointment. “No Mordred again?”

“Nah,” said Morgause. She was carrying some kind of cake from an organic bakery, which made Arthur freak out for a second, thinking if he had forgotten someone’s birthday, but no. It was alright. No one’s birthday. Just cake. Or something similar to cake. “He’s at the hospital,” she said.

She looked fine. Like she was getting enough sleep, and smiled at Arthur pleasantly.

Morgana, on the other hand, seemed stressed, but she made the effort to smile and kiss her mother.

“Where’s dad?” she asked. “There’s some stuff I need to discuss with him...”

Morgause groaned.

“Please don’t start talking about work. You two never stop... it’s family dinner, not a meeting,” Vivienne said, frowning.

Morgana walked past her, and fished her phone out of her pocket.

“Just a minute...” she said, ignoring her, leaving Morgause and Arthur to stand with her at the foyer.

“What’s the cake for?” Arthur asked.

“I just felt like eating strawberry cheesecake,” said Morgause. “So here.”

She shoved him onto his arms, “Put it in the fridge, will you? I’m going to pour myself some wine to get through the office talk...”

“Save some for me,” Arthur added.

Vivienne shook her head, and took the cake from Arthur’s hands.

“You go ahead to the drawing room; I’ll put this in the fridge.”

*

 

“Hello?” said Arthur, with a raspy voice.

“Oh hi, Arthur. This is Mordred.”

“Yeah?” he said, and shifted in the bed, so he was back snuggling under the covers.

“Um, it’s just that, we’re waiting for you in the park and we were wondering if you’re going to come to play, or...”

The football match. Well, crap.

“What time is it?” said Arthur, sitting up, and turning to his bedside table to pick up his watch.

“It’s almost half past ten,” said Mordred.

“Oh shit. Sorry. I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Percy says we could wait for you another half hour or so...”

“No, no, it’s not that. I forgot to tell you... I’ve got a date.”

“A date?”

“Yeah,” he said. He tried to play it cool but he was beaming like a lunatic at the thought of seeing Merlin again, and he didn’t even feel guilty about standing his friends up.

He could hear loud voices and laughter on the other end of the line, and Mordred said, “Hold on, the guys want to talk, so I’m putting you on speaker...”

“What do you mean you’re dumping us for a date!” said Gwaine. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

“Gwaine, you really are not one to be saying that,” said Percival.

Arthur chuckled.

“What are you, 12? Why are you making a big deal out of this,” Arthur said, amused.

“Ah, c’mon, we want to know. Who’s the lucky gentleman?” said Gwaine, and Arthur could almost see him grinning at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m not telling,” said Arthur.

“Please tell me it’s not Leon again,” said Percival.

“What! No! Of course it’s not Leon, I told you we were over.”

“Well, that’s all good then, someone new,” said Gwaine.

“I had no idea you were seeing someone,” said Mordred.

“Well, that’s because I hadn’t really told anyone,” said Arthur. With all due respect to his psychiatrist, Arthur figured Gaius didn’t count.

“Why?” asked Gwaine.

“Because!” said Arthur, “Because maybe I didn’t want to answer all your questions.”

“Ouch, Arthur, you’re breaking my heart.”

“Shut up, Gwaine.”

“Yeah, shut up,” said Percival. “We just needed to know if you were coming. Otherwise we’re one man short.”

“We are always one man short, you’ll make do,” said Arthur. “Or call Owain.”

There was a general noise of disapproval at the other end of the line. Arthur grinned. Owain would hang out with them from time to time, but he wasn’t exactly one of them. Even Mordred knew how nasty the guy could get when he was drunk, and none of them had forgotten his last little show, a couple of weeks ago, when he got pissed and was a total douche to a waitress, resulting in all of them getting kicked out of a pub, with no hopes of returning any time soon.

“I gotta go,” said Arthur, before any of his friends could say anything else. “And Mordred?”

“Yeah?”

“Score a few ones on my behalf.”

“Got it.”

*

When lunch extended way beyond lunchtime, and Merlin and Arthur were receiving glares from the waiters for not ordering more food, they decided to go for a walk. It was cloudy and cold, but Merlin liked walking next to Arthur, close together in the midst of the city chaos, their palms brushing, fingers lacing, cheeks flushing in the cold wind, heart pounding.

They talked about trifles (the airport novels Merlin liked to read, much to Arthur’s chagrin, all simple mysteries and flat characters, and how Lancelot tried to educate Merlin on what good literature was, but Merlin never learned), and about things that were slightly more meaningful (Arthur’s biological mother, who had died of cancer before Arthur was old enough to even remember her face; growing up as an only child, growing up in a big family, in a big city, and a small town, and how difficult it had been for Merlin to come out to his parents when he was still in school, and the plan he had of moving to Will’s place if Balinor kicked him out of the house, a plan that didn’t need follow through, and how much Hunith had cried, because she felt incredibly guilty and disappointed in herself that her own son had felt like he had to hide whom he truly was from her.)

They entered a café, and after several cups of coffee, Merlin mentioned that his flat was nearby, and that if Arthur wanted, they could watch a film or just let the evening pass by. Naturally, the answer was yes.

“Do you like _The Lord of the Rings_?” Merlin said, as they were leaving the café towards his flat.

“The books? Yeah. It was one of my favourites as a teen,” said Arthur.

“But did you like the films?” he asked.

“Sure...”

“Would you like to watch one of them? I have the extended versions and everything,” said Merlin, with a silly grin.

“Maybe some other time,” said Arthur, “They’re a little long and... I believe you have to watch them all in one go. Like the book was supposed to be, not a trilogy, but a sole, huge book.”

“Oh, I heard about that. Tolkien had to break it into three pieces because of his publishers, right?”

“Yeah. I understand that, but I still don’t get his editor,” said Arthur.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“He didn’t really edit _The Lord of the Rings_ ,” Arthur explained. “He was like, ‘oh, Tolkien’s so good, you don’t really go editing Tolkien, it was alright...’ That’s just lazy. If it’d been me—”

“Oh, come on!” Merlin laughed.

“What?”

“Are you saying you could’ve done better?” Merlin asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

“Of course I would’ve,” said Arthur.

“You’re such a dollophead!”

“That’s not a word, Merlin.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it’s not. Trust me on this, Merlin, I make my living out of words.”

“Then you must be a lousy editor.”

“I can assure you I am a great editor. Besides, what does dollophead even mean? Define it!”

“Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur turned his face away to try to hide his laughter, but Merlin saw him and chuckled.

“Anyway,” Merlin said, “If you don’t want to watch _Lord of the Rings_ , there are others... Are you in for some deep and serious stuff?”

“Any action films?”

“Um... I think I saw some of the Bourne movies among Lancelot’s DVDs,” said Merlin. “We could watch one of those, if you want.”

“I have no objections to Matt Damon.”

“Me neither.”

*

In the end, it wasn’t Matt Damon but Jeremy Renner. After Merlin had to lock Aithusa (with enough food, her litter box and a bunch of toys) in the bathroom, because she all but attacked Arthur as soon as she saw him, they cuddled on Merlin’s sofa, and watched _Bourne Legacy_. It turned out Arthur was a big fan of the series, and though Merlin had only watched the first film ages ago, he did enjoy it.

By the time Moby’s “Extreme Ways” started to play, and the credits rolled, Merlin let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“That was... intense,” he said.

Arthur chuckled, and Merlin felt the vibrations of his chest against his shoulder. He didn’t notice how, but somewhere along the movie, he ended up with half of his back pressed against Arthur’s chest, and Arthur’s arms around him.

“Yeah. I like that about these movies. They have you at the edge of the seat. Not a moment to breathe...”

Merlin turned to him, smiling. He took a look at his watch.

“Are you hungry? We could order something...” he said, unsure of how to ask Arthur to stay a little longer. He didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

Arthur shifted on the sofa to face Merlin, but stayed close.  

“I’m not hungry,” Arthur said and licked his lips. He lowered his eyes, gaze fixated on Merlin’s mouth. Merlin smiled, and cupped Arthur’s cheek with his hand.

“Food can wait,” he muttered, as he leaned forward, and kissed him.

*

A few moments later, their limbs tangled together in bed, Arthur and Merlin remembered that distant dream in which they made love for the first time.

They were young and afraid, inexperienced, fumbling in spite of the fact that they both were aware that it was all a dream. In the back of his mind, Arthur remembered someone, a friend perhaps, someone he cared about, someone he liked, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was Merlin – this boy, knees and elbows, pasty skin, blue eyes, hair dark and messy, the miles of legs that appeared before him as he slowly, very slowly, slid down his jeans. There was heat in Merlin’s eyes, in the way he looked at Arthur, like he was the only thing in his world that made sense, and Arthur felt it too, and wanted to say it, but the words got stuck in his throat, and there wasn’t much room for words when you were kissing someone like you’d drown if you stopped.

Merlin remembered the goose bumps Arthur awoke with his fingertips wherever he touched, how his heart would beat faster and faster as Arthur’s clothes disappeared. How Arthur smelled of sweat and cologne, and his hair soft when Merlin ran his fingers through it. How self-conscious he felt, for a moment, when he caressed Arthur’s chest, which was strong and muscular and tanned, simply nothing like his, until Arthur muttered _you’re so hot, you’re incredible, I wish I knew your name, I wish you were real_.

 _I am real_ , Merlin wanted to reply. _I am real, I am real, I’m not a dream, you’re not a dream, this isn’t a dream_.

“No, it’s not,” Arthur said, smiling at him, and Merlin shivered more thanks to the sparkle in his eyes than to Arthur’s touch. “This is real, I am here, I am here, I am here...” Arthur whispered, pressing his lips on Merlin’s throat, butterfly kisses on his chest, his hand, slow, stroking his cock like they had all the time in the world. Maybe they did, but Merlin was eager.

“Come on,” he said, and pushed Arthur down gently, urging him to get his mouth a little lower.

He ran his hands through Arthur’s hair, and pulled a little, with the right force that he knew would make Arthur moan, and Merlin got closer and closer to the edge. He looked down, and found Arthur staring up at him, bright eyed, cheeks flushed, and perfect with his hair a mess and his lips swollen, red, around Merlin’s cock. Merlin was burning, and everywhere they touched, it felt like their skin was melting together. Arthur closed his eyes, sucked harder, quickened the rhythm, and Merlin’s head fell back on the soft pillows, his gaze fixated on the ceiling, elated that he was saying it now, finally, _Arthur_ _Arthur Arthur_ , his name, his name as he came in his mouth, his name as he sucked him through his orgasm, his name as he swallowed, his name as he let go, his name in the afterglow.

“Yes, Merlin?” he said, and suddenly his face was hovering above Merlin’s, stealing kisses from his breathless lips.

When Arthur pulled away, Merlin let out a sigh and smiled, blissful, his heart swelling in his chest.

“You are amazing,” said Merlin.

Arthur grinned at him.

“I know,” he said.

Merlin chuckled, and pulled him down for another kiss.

 “Fuck me,” Merlin whispered to his lips.

Arthur smiled, hoping that there was a way to convey the tenderness, everything he was feeling, without words, because there was only one word that would come out of his mouth for a little while. Arthur nodded. “Merlin.”

*

“You seem happier nowadays,” said Gaius.

“Yeah?” said Merlin, and couldn’t help the ridiculous grin that spread on his face.

“I take it things are getting better.”

Merlin shrugged.

“You could say so, yes,” he said as he checked his chart. He just had to see Freya, who seemed to be improving, in fifteen minutes, and then he’d get a half an hour break. Great. He was starting to get hungry.

“You look like you’re in love,” said Gaius, and somehow managed not to sound judgmental, just amused.

“What? You’re in love?” said Finna, from the nurse station, with a grin. “My, my...”

“That’s not—I’m not—”

Finna cracked up, “Look at you, blushing like a lovesick teen.”

Merlin accepted the teasing, but didn’t catch the hook.

“I’m not telling,” he said with a smirk.

“Well, then, keep your secrets,” said Finna, smiling, and turned to Gaius. “Make sure to tell me once you manage to get it all out from him.”

Gaius laughed but didn’t add more. Finna turned away to make some calls, and Merlin’s look was lost. He found himself thinking of Arthur, of how nice it felt to be walking on some solid ground.

“I’m glad you’re doing better, Merlin,” said Gaius, bringing him out of his stupor.

“Thanks,” said Merlin. “But it’s not a big deal. I mean... We’re only just starting...”

“If you say so,” said Gaius, giving him a knowing grin, and his face instantly changed to the stern gesture of a boss. “Now, don’t you have a patient to see?”

“Oh, right,” said Merlin, and hurriedly disappeared down the hallway towards the therapy rooms.

*

Arthur and his friends were warming up like they were going to play the final of the Euro Cup. Or at least that’s how it seemed to Merlin, as he saw them running around and doing twisty stretching that appeared to be yoga poses.

“They take this very seriously, don’t they?” said Merlin. He was sitting on the grades with Morgause, Arthur’s very blonde, very quiet sister. Or at least, after the simple introductions, and awkward (or perhaps not awkward, just the silence of people who have nothing to say and won’t waste their breaths in small talk) silence had fallen between them.

“It’s ridiculous,” Morgause said, and she smiled. “I hate it. But... Mordred seems to like it too, so...” she shrugged.

Right. Mordred. It had been quite a surprise to find out that Kilgharrah’s new protégé was Arthur’s brother-in-law. Well, Morgause and Mordred weren’t married, but from what Merlin knew, they had been dating for a while and Mordred had become good friends with Arthur.

“So... you’re the low-budget, independent filmmaker, right?” Merlin asked with a smile.

“Yep,” she responded. “And you’re a psychiatrist, aren’t you?”

“Not yet, but hopefully, next year...” he said.

Morgause nodded, keeping her eyes fixed in Arthur group of friends. There were more now, but the only ones Merlin had been introduced to were Mordred (who, turned out, he already knew), Percy, and Gwaine. Now there were around 15 guys warming up and preparing for a match.

“How often do they meet?”

“Like... once or twice a month? Sometimes once a week, if they have time. I don’t know. This is Mordred’s second or third time coming,” Morgause said with a chuckle. “He really wanted me to come and watch, but I’d refused before... Except this time Arthur said you were coming and that it was my obligation to keep you from dying of boredom.”

The way she said it would’ve made Merlin feel uncomfortable. But despite her serious face, Morgause didn’t seem genuinely bothered to be there. Then, as if her brain had caught up with her words, she turned and smiled at him, to soften the impact of what she’d just said.

“It’s nice to meet you, you know,” she added. “I mean... You seem like a nice person.”

“Thanks,” said Merlin and smiled at her too.

Then her attention was back to the pitch.

“I don’t know how anyone would ever enjoy running after a ball in shorts under the sun or in the rain, but here you have them...”

Merlin chuckled.

“I never liked competitive sports. Though I was good at basketball... basically because I was the tallest in my class back in school,” he mused.

Morgause nodded.

“I hated sports, too. If you ask Arthur, he’d say I’m afraid of breaking my pretty nose or getting hurt. But I just think they’re boring and stupid.”

“Are they doing yoga now?” Merlin asked. Arthur was lying on the grass, holding his torso up with his stretched arms, resting on his palms, while the rest of this body stayed still on the grass. Everyone was imitating him.

Morgause laughed.

“I think so,” she said. “Morgana taught him that, you know? Those yoga poses to stretch and whatnot...”

“Morgana is your youngest sister, right?”

“Yes. She spent a year in uni as an exchange student in India, finding herself or something,” said Morgause, but her tone was kind of cynical. “And she came back with a different mindset and an ability to bend.”

“I see...”

“She and Arthur used to do yoga together back then.”

“Arthur really is the sporty type, huh?” said Merlin.

“Yeah, since he was a child. He was fiercely competitive in everything. Even wrestling with Morgana, though she usually beat him,” Morgause was smiling now, softly.

“You didn’t like that kind of thing, I assume. But Arthur was into all sorts of sports...”

“Oh no. I’d stare at them from the garden chairs and pretend to read and drink tea like the big hipster I was. Still am. Whatever,” she said with a shrug. “Sports is not for me. You’re right about Arthur, though. He and Morgana were even into fencing and other stuff... I only went with them to their swimming lessons, and that’s because I didn’t want to drown if we went on vacation to the sea.”

“You seriously don’t do any exercise?” Merlin asked.

Morgause laughed.

“Your doctor senses are tingling? I’m fine. I love walking. I do that every day, long walks. What about you?”

“I’ve been awfully neglecting my health since I started my medical training,” Merlin said with a smirk.

“Pulling all those hours, it doesn’t surprise me. Do they want to kill you guys?” she asked, scolding. The match had started now but Merlin wasn’t sure who was in which team. All the players seem very serious about it, though.

“I’ve been asking myself that question for years,” said Merlin, but his smiled didn’t leave his lips. “I’m just glad I’ve made it so far.”

Morgause turned to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you know Arthur? I mean, he didn’t say much about you, he just said you two had gone on several dates, so...”

“Oh, um. He’s my friend Lancelot’s editor.”

“Lancelot du Lac?” asked Morgause, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes, that one.”

“Ah, I loved his novel,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “It was so amazing! He deserved that prize...”

“Yeah, well... Do you know him?”

“Him? In person? Nah. I don’t like meeting the people I admire. I’d rather idolise him from afar,” she said, with a big grin. “Think of him as some kind of super talented being who produces literary work with the easiness, poignancy and depth with which they are read.”

“He’s actually very nice in person,” said Merlin. “He’s my best friend.”

“Seriously? So Lancelot introduced you two?” she asked.

“Sort of... He’s now in Chile, so he asked me to take some books he’d borrowed from Arthur back to his office.”

“What! I didn’t know he wasn’t living in Camelot anymore!” said Morgause, appalled. “Arthur didn’t tell me anything...”

“Well...” Merlin shrugged. “It’s temporary. A year or so. Anyway, that’s how we met. I took the books to Arthur’s office and he asked me for lunch.”

“Seriously?” Morgause did a double take. “Just like that?”

Merlin avoided looking at her, his eyes fixed on the match. Someone had scored a goal but Arthur wasn’t celebrating so Merlin figured he didn’t have to fake enthusiasm just yet.

“Yeah... Well, he was kind of a twat at first, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Morgause laughed.

“Don’t worry, I know my brother. He can be a little despotic. Especially if he’s stressed and he’d been so. But he seems better now,” she concluded.

Merlin wasn’t sure if that was meant to make him feel good about himself or if it was a simple observation. Morgause had harsh features, she seemed serious, but she had an acid sense of humour and a way of speaking that felt honest and direct. So far, Merlin liked her.

“I’m glad,” he said, simply.

“I’m not. Now he drags my boyfriend to football matches and I have to play cheerleader,” she said, but her tone was light. Then she added, “Now, let’s make a bet. Will Arthur or will he not take his shirt off to celebrate if he scores a goal? My money is on yes...”

Merlin tried not to blush thinking about that. Shirtless Arthur was a sight to behold, but still, talking about this with Arthur’s sister felt a little weird.

“Er, I don’t know. I’m at a disadvantage here. I haven’t seen any of his matches before.”

Morgause just smiled at him.

“OK, my money is on yes...”

“Then what?” she said, frowning. “What does he do if he doesn’t take off his shirt?”

“We buy him a beer?”

“And if he does, he buys us one,” she said, grinning. “Good, I like this bet.”

Merlin didn’t point out it wasn’t exactly a bet and that Arthur hadn’t agreed to it, because at that moment, Arthur scored a goal and started running around the pitch, waving his t-shirt behind him like a conquering flag. Then he was tackled by his teammates and disappeared under a heap of bodies.

When Mordred, who was on top of the pile, turned to look at them, Morgause smiled and gave him the thumbs up. Merlin waved.

“Looks like he owes us some beer,” said Morgause, grinning.

*

After the match, which Arthur’s team won 5-4, they went to the pub. Gwaine, Percy, Mordred, Morgause, Arthur, and Merlin sat around a couple of tables, close together but cheerful despite the discomfort. The players were all sweaty and gross. Morgause kept playfully pushing Mordred away when he tried to hug her, telling him to go shower first.

Merlin didn’t mind. Arthur was exhilarated, smiling like a lunatic from the victory and the endorphins, slightly more affectionate than he usually was in public with his arm around Merlin’s waist. They ordered food and drinks, and Mordred, Percy and Gwaine decided they had bet about Arthur shirtlessness too, so it went to Arthur to pay for the first round.

Merlin learned that Gwaine was an actor (no wonder, with those looks), and Morgause started to ask him questions and gossip about some common acquaintances. Percy and Arthur started to discuss some new machine from the gym (they had met there, ages ago), and so Merlin and Mordred were left to establish conversation with one another.

“So...” said Merlin, “How’s training going?”

“Good, but tiring. I’m learning a lot.”

Merlin nodded and took a sip of his beer.

“Cool,” he said.

“How about yours? You’re almost finished, right?”

“Yes. Next year. I’m doing great...” Merlin said with a smile.

“I’m glad. Professor Kilgarrah talks a lot about you, you know,” said Mordred. “It’s like you’re his star pupil.”

Merlin frowned.

“Really? Well, I don’t... go to him that often any more. But he did guide me a lot when I was an undergrad. Why do you go see him so much, though? I thought your speciality was neurology.”

“Oh yes, but I’m interested in...” Mordred made a pause. “Broadening the field, I guess. Professor Kilgharrah has some thought-provoking ideas which I wish to study from a neurological point of view, if you know what I mean.”

 _Oh yes_. Merlin knew. Rituals, mystic phenomena... Merlin couldn’t, for the life of him, get why anyone would get interested in that stuff, but well.

“I see,” he said, simply. “I hope he’s able to help.”

Mordred smiled.

“He’s been great.”

“...right, Merlin?” Arthur said, suddenly bumping into the conversation and Merlin’s personal space.

“Uh?” Merlin asked. “I’m sorry, I was talking to Mordred...”

“I was saying that you have the weird ability to be perfectly functional before 7 a.m.,” he said.

“Uh, yes. It’s kind of a gift,” said Merlin. “Of med students, and... you know, people who work,” he said, turning to Mordred with a smile.

“Oi! I do have a job, thank you very much!” said Arthur, pouting.

“Nah,” said Gwaine, suddenly breaking into the conversation. “Reading isn’t a job.”

Morgause burst laughing.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “That’s not a real job, Arthur!”

“What you do isn’t a real job either!” he said. “You just laze around in pyjamas all day, watching films!”

Morgause laughed even harder.

“You should’ve gone to business school,” she added.

“Exactly. Follow the family business.”

“Oh man,” said Percy. “Stop channelling your dad, it gives me the creeps.”

“Why, Mr. Percival? Does this Chardonnay that costs more than a month of your rent intimidate you?” Morgause said, twirling around her beer. Judging by the roaring laughter from everyone but Gwaine and Merlin, it was a solid impersonation.

“I take you still haven’t got the pleasure of meeting Mr. Pendragon yet?” Merlin asked Gwaine.

“And I don’t think I’ll have it. He met Percy by accident, once Arthur forced him into the gym...”

“Oh god...” Arthur started to laugh. “First and last time my father was in one of those places...”

“But it was enough to make him think I was your boyfriend,” said Percival, shaking his head. “And invite me to family dinner...”

“Oh my god,” said Mordred. “Really? Did you get through the questionnaire too?”

“Yep... I wasn’t sure why he cared so much about my background and career choices until I noticed the way he was staring at Arthur and me.”

“Needless to say, it was very awkward to point out he wasn’t my boyfriend,” said Arthur. “He thought I was trying to hide it or something...”

Morgause just continued to laugh.

Merlin fell silent, and couldn’t help but get slightly worried. What was that whole thing about family dinners? Would Merlin be required to come to one, to be formally introduced to the family? Would Arthur’s dad interrogate him like some kind of criminal? Or worse! Like a potential suitor asking for Arthur’s hand in marriage?

“Don’t worry,” said Mordred. “Uther isn’t half as bad as they say. He was very cordial to me. Whether or not he was pretending, that’s another thing altogether...”

“I think he likes you,” said Arthur. “Though I’m not sure he thinks Morgause is good enough for you.”

“Hey!” she complained. “Shut it now or I’ll start telling Merlin embarrassing toddler stories. You know my place isn’t far from here, I could show him pictures.”

Arthur raised his hands in a gesture of appeasing.

“I give up, then,” he said.

Morgause and Arthur exchanged a smile, and the rest of the talk was interrupted by the waitress carrying their food. Merlin didn’t press the topic. He hadn’t met Arthur as a toddler, but he had a very good idea of how he was as a kid. He didn’t need Morgause’s stories or pictures.

*

Merlin had been awake for about a quarter of an hour. Sprawled on top of him, like a human octopus, was Arthur, snoring lightly. Merlin knew Arthur still had an hour or so before he had to wake up for work so he didn’t move. He didn’t want to disturb him.

But the ringing of his mobile phone did disturb Arthur. Merlin cursed under his breath and disentangled himself from Arthur, who started to move and groan in reproach. Merlin fumbled through his clothes, discharged on the floor last night, until he found his phone and answered. It was Will.

“Hey? What’s up?” he said, his voice low, while he left the room as quietly as possible.

“It’s over, Merlin,” Will said.

Merlin’s heart jumped out of his throat.

“Over? What are you talking about? Are you alright?”

“I’m not alright, I—” his voice cracked. “I broke up with Sophia.”

Merlin closed and opened his mouth, completely taken aback.

“Merlin? You’re still there?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know what to say, Will. What happened?”

           

“ _She_ happened,” Will said bitterly. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before, Merlin. How crazy she is, how insane the whole thing was...”

Merlin walked from Arthur’s bedroom to the living room. Arthur hated his sofa, but Merlin found it comfortable, even if when you sat on it your ass could almost feel the wood holding the stuffing. He sat there, and asked Will, “What did she do?”

“The question is, what the fuck she didn’t do. Merlin, she’s crazy. Textbook psycho girlfriend and I just couldn’t see it. I was such a moron, God, I can’t believe I let her walk over me like that. I can’t believe I didn’t see her as she was, I just... I loved her.”

“I’m sorry, Will,” Merlin said. “I really am. I mean, I thought you were happy with her. But if you weren’t, this is for the best.”

“You bet it is. It’s—it was one thing after the other, you know? I started noticing how she’d check my messages. Sometimes I thought I’d forgotten my phone at her place, but no, she took it from my pocket and kept it. It was crazy, Merlin! She was always trying to control me. If she didn’t like some friend I hang out with, she just asked me to stop seeing them—and like an idiot, I complied. And some people tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen...” Will trailed off.

Merlin sighed.

“But you know now. That’s good. At least, I think it’s a good thing that you noticed all these before you married her.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how that would’ve been. I was so blind. So blind...” Will whispered.

Merlin felt as if someone was crushing his heart like a tin can.

“You were in love,” he said. “Sometimes we have no idea how far a person can go in their bad habits. You start dating someone who seems to be a fun, occasional drunk, and somewhere down the road you wake up next to an alcoholic.”

“Oh but she went too far. Too far.”

“What happened?”

“Remember Caitlin? The girl who works at The Great Dragon?” asked Will.

“Uh... the waitress who had a crush on you?”

“Yeah, that one. Well, she got my number from a mutual acquaintance. She called me, and told me she wanted to buy a used car, and that she could use some help from an expert, just so she wouldn’t get conned and end up with a bad car and whatnot. I told her it was fine, added her to my contacts, and she agreed to let me know when she had some options to look at.

“I didn’t tell Sophia because I knew she wouldn’t like it and I didn’t want to get in a fight with her until it was imminent. I mean, Caitlin could’ve changed her mind and not call me or whatever, I didn’t think it was that important... But then Caitlin texted me to say she’d found a couple of cars and asked me if we could go take a look at them. I didn’t have my phone with me. It was one of the times that Sophia took it from me without me knowing. What do you think that happened?”

“She went batshit,” said Merlin.

“She didn’t ask me about it. I was in the workshop and she just went straight to the pub and threatened Caitlin. She might’ve hurt her if Bill hadn’t interfered and called me. She was all ‘get away from my man’ and all that shit, Merlin. It just opened my eyes, I mean... I went to pick her up because she refused to go away from outside the pub and Bill called me in the workshop. He told me if I didn’t take her away in ten minutes, he’d call the police.”

“Oh my god!”

“It wasn’t pleasant. Ugh. I realised I couldn’t do it anymore. It was as if someone opened my eyes, as if I was seeing her for the first time, truly her, not the ridiculous romantic movie I had built around her.”

“Oh Will...” said Merlin.

“It’s fine, Merlin,” he said. “I’m only... sad.”

“When was this?”

“Just yesterday. It was awful. I took her from the pub and we went to my place and argued, and argued and argued, and all the time I was just thinking ‘who the fuck is this crazy bitch and how did I get into this?’” Will chuckled, but it sounded more like a choked sob. “And ‘when did I start thinking so horribly of her?’”

“I’m sorry.”

“Anyway, it’s over now. The wedding’s cancelled. I went back to the pub, apologised to Caitlin, and spent the rest of the night drinking and... at some point I went home, and woke up to throw up, and I thought of you, and I called. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“No, it’s fine,” said Merlin. “I was already awake. I’m just sorry you had to go through this, Will. I mean... I did notice Sophia was a bit possessive, but I didn’t want to say anything—”

“If you’d said anything, I probably would’ve gotten mad at you,” said Will. “It would’ve been useless. I told you, people tried to warn me. But I just wouldn’t listen...” he whispered. “I’m so disappointed.”

“It will get better, Will. You too, with time.”

“I don’t know, Merlin. I feel like I can’t trust my own judgment anymore. And if that’s true, who the fuck am I, then?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Merlin. “Sometimes we just trust the wrong people. That’s their fault, not ours.”

“If you say so,” said Will, but he didn’t sound very convinced.

“Listen, mate, you’ll be fine. Even if you thought she was the one for you, well, she wasn’t, and it’s a very good thing that you ended things before you had to pay a lawyer to do it for you.”

Will snorted.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

He stayed silent for a moment, and then he added, “I should go back to sleep. I think I’m starting to get hung over.”

“Get some rest, Will,” said Merlin. “You’ll be fine. And call me again if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” said Will. “Seriously.”

“Nah, don’t mention it. That’s what brothers are for,” said Merlin, and smiled.

“Yeah...” said Will. “Yeah.”

After hanging up, Merlin went back to Arthur’s bedroom. Arthur was awake and grumpy, as he always was at this hour.

“I’m sorry I woke you up...”

“Please tell me this isn’t an emergency or something and that you can come back to bed and cuddle with me,” said Arthur, pouting.

Merlin laughed.

“You’re a spoiled brat, you know that?”

“I’m not. I’m needy. There’s a difference,” Arthur said with a smirk.

Merlin got back into the bed and put his arms around Arthur.

“That was my friend, Will.”

“Oh... the one who’s getting married?”

“He’s not anymore. They split up,” Merlin said.

“Oh... That sucks. I guess,” said Arthur, rather eloquently.

Merlin smiled and ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

“It’s for the best. But it was all very recent and he was upset.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He’ll be fine,” said Merlin, and sighed.

“And you? You get ridiculously worried about people, you know?” said Arthur. He caught the hand Merlin had on his chest, and kissed it.

“I’m fine,” said Merlin, and he meant it.

“Good,” said Arthur. “Now, could we go back to sleep?”

Merlin laughed.

“No. It’s time for you to go to the gym.”

Arthur groaned.

“I don’t want to.”

“If you don’t, you’ll get all grumpy and stressed and abuse George. And despite how boring the poor man is, he’s efficient and doesn’t deserve it,” said Merlin.  

“Meh,” said Arthur. “He sometimes deserves it.”

“You’re awful.”

“Yep. You do know that, don’t you?” said Arthur. “I mean. You do realise. Who I am. How I am.”

“I think I do, yes,” said Merlin.

“You see, that worries me sometimes,” said Arthur. “Sometimes I wonder if you really see me. I am a living nightmare, and I’m not saying this like some kind of insecure emo teenager searching for validations or fishing for compliments. I mean it. I’m a difficult person to be with and I sometimes worry that you’ll notice it one day and just... hop off and leave.”

Merlin blinked.

“Arthur, I’m... I’m not perfect either. And I’m aware of your flaws, if that’s what you’re worried about. At least, I think I am.”

“You said it again. ‘I think I am.’”

“Well, nothing is for certain. No one can be one hundred per cent sure about anything, but I think I’m fairly sure that I like you a lot just the way you are. I always have.”

Arthur shifted in their embrace to face him, and smiled at him.

“Thanks,” he said. “Me, too.”

“Good,” said Merlin,.“Now get out of here and go lift some weights. Percy is probably wondering where you are...”

Arthur groaned.

“No, I want to stay in bed. I’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse,” said Arthur, and wiggled his eyebrows at Merlin.

Merlin chuckled, and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but I gotta be in the hospital in an hour, so I need to hit the shower.”

“Can I join you?”

“No. Gym, remember?” said Merlin. “You can join me... in 25 hours, if I haven’t passed out. And in my place, I need to make sure Aithusa is alright. I don’t like leaving her alone for so long.”

“Don’t mention that demon cat in my presence!” said Arthur.

“She’s a perfectly adorable kitty!” said Merlin. “You’re just a dog person.”

“Yes, I am. And she hates me. I still have the scar of where she bit me last week, you know?”

“She’ll come around!”

“No, she’s a bakeneko! She’ll eat you and steal your life!” said Arthur.

“What the hell is a...” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Oh, never mind. Say hello to Morgause and Morgana tonight.”

“Oh. Friday dinner. Marvellous,” said Arthur, making a face.

“They can’t be so terrible, if you keep going,” said Merlin, from the threshold of the bedroom.

“One day, I’ll take you, and you’ll have to eat your words. Along with the delicious food my mum’s cook makes.”

Merlin grinned.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said, before disappearing into the hallway, towards the bathroom.

*

Merlin’s day had been perfectly fine so far. He’d been able to eat lunch on time, he had checked on his patients on the psychiatric ward (and they were all fine, which was a nice change), and he was ready for an afternoon of appointments. He stopped by the nurse station to check his chart and find out who was first.

“Good afternoon, Finna!” said Merlin, with a bright smile, when the secretary appeared at the nurse station for her second shift. His smile faded when she saw her expression, though—she seemed troubled and tired. “Is everything alright?”

Finna pressed her lips together in a gesture of displeasure before speaking.

“Merlin, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Merlin frowned.

“What happened? Is Gaius alright?” he asked, a little worried. He hadn’t seen his mentor all day, and that was odd.

“Gaius? Oh, he’s fine. It’s just his day off.”

“I see. What is it, then?” asked Merlin.

Finna sat at her desk, and beckoned at Merlin to come closer to her.

“It’s about one of your patients.”

*

It was nice, for a change, that Uther and Morgana weren’t talking about work over dinner. Arthur suspected it had something to do with the fact that Morgana was working in a joined project with Leon, and they were still reluctant to even mention his name in Arthur’s presence. Instead, Vivienne had been talking nonstop about the possibility of spending Christmas with Uther in Bali.

“You wouldn’t mind that, would you?” she asked her children. “I mean, I know we usually spend Christmas together, but we could come home for New Year’s...”

“It’s alright, mum,” said Morgause. “We don’t mind, right?” she said, turning to Morgana and Arthur.

“Nah,” said Morgana. “I wanted to go to Bombay anyway...”

Arthur shrugged.

“I’d rather stay home and spend the money in furniture for my flat.”

“Oh, when are you inviting us to see it?” asked Uther.

“When it’s fully furnished,” said Arthur.

Uther grunted, and Arthur decided to interpret it as a noise of approval or understanding.

“Anyway,” said Morgana. “If you go to Bali, you gotta visit Tanah Lot Temple—”

“We haven’t decided on anything yet,” said Uther.

“But we _are_ going, aren’t we?” said Vivienne, frowning at him.

“Um, yes. I told you,” said Uther.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll work it out,” said Morgause, interrupting them. “Now, I have some news to tell.”

Everyone stopped eating and turned to look at her, tense and very still, as if they had a knife hanging over their heads. Arthur would’ve found it comical, if such announcements (“I rescued a kitten from the streets and I’ve kept her in my closet for a week!” “Mr. Alator realised I had been drinking vodka from my water bottle and I’ve been expelled!” “I’m going to be a filmmaker!”) hadn’t been the cause of mayhem in previous occasions.

“What is it?” said Uther, frowning.

“Mordred and I are getting married.”

“Oh my god!” said Morgana, with a big smile. “That’s amazing,” she hugged her. “Congratulations!”

Morgause laughed awkwardly and hugged her back. “Thanks, but don’t get so excited; it’s embarrassing.”

“That’s great,” said Arthur, and he meant it, though he couldn’t muster as much enthusiasm as Morgana. After what had happened with Leon, he was a bit scared of the idea of such a commitment, never mind that he’d never imagined his step sister marrying anyone.

“Are you sure about this, love?” asked Vivianne.

“Of course I’m sure, mum. I wouldn’t be telling you otherwise.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’m happy for you,” said Vivianne and smiled at her.

“You’re not wearing an engagement ring,” said Uther, and the frown hadn’t disappeared from his face.

Morgause shrugged.

“So?”

“Hasn’t he proposed properly yet?”

Morgause laughed.

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

“Morgause!” said Uther, sternly.

“I mean, are you asking if he kneeled down during a surprise romantic dinner and asked me to be his bride? No. We just talked about it. I don’t need a ring, and I don’t want a ring...” she said. “Not until the wedding, at least.”

“Nevermind that,” said Uther, dismissing the discussion with a hand gesture. “Are you taking this a seriously as you should?”

“Yes, Uther,” said Morgause, throwing an icy look towards him. “I have. I’m not a little girl. I know how to make my own decisions. I was simply communicating it to you because, apparently, you are part of my family and thought you’d care to know.”

“I’m only concerned about you,” said Uther. “This boy—”

“His name is Mordred.”

“This _Mordred_ , he’s very young, he’s a student still. I know medicine is promising but—”

“Oh, Uther, please stop,” said Vivienne. “Morgause has made up her mind. She’s sure of what she’s doing and she knows Modred, and herself, well. We have no business interfering with her decisions.”

Uther glared at her.

“As I said, I’m only concerned about her well-being.”

“Well, your concern is appreciated,” said Morgause, “but unnecessary.”

Uther seemed slighted. Arthur had to take a gulp of wine to keep himself from sighing and rolling his eyes, and then said, “You know, father, lately I’ve gotten to know Mordred a lot better. He’s responsible, clever, ambitious, and also a generous and kind person. If you ask me, I think your concern is necessary—he’s too good for Morgause.”

“Shut up, Linus, this is none of your business!” said Morgause, but she couldn’t hide the smile and the glint of joy in her eyes.

“If you say so, son...” said Uther, though he didn’t sound very convinced.

“Oh right, because Arthur says so, then it must be true, huh?” said Morgana, glowering at them.

Arthur sighed. He could understand her anger (Uther was always like that), but all he wanted was to appease everyone and end the meal at peace.

“Naturally,” said Morgause, but there was no bitterness in her voice, only a kind of bored resignation. “Anyway... It won’t be a civil ceremony, we’re getting handfasted. That’s all. He’ll move in with me when his lease is over on December, and once he’s finished his internship and gets a job, we’ll start searching for a new place.”

“Are you planning on having children?” asked Uther, whose face had lost the scowl since Morgause said there wouldn’t be a civil ceremony, and Vivienne’s face suddenly lit up. Arthur wondered how badly they wanted grandchildren.

“If so, you should hurry, you know? I mean, not that you’re old or anything, darling, but the sooner, the better,” said Vivienne.

Morgause smirked.

“No, mum, we don’t want babies. Not in the next... five years or so at least.”

“Well, medicine is very advanced now. I’m sure there won’t be a problem if you have a baby in your forties, especially with Mordred being a gynecologist—”

“He’s a neurologist, dad,” said Morgause. “I thought you’d taken notes after that interview.”

“Is he? My bad. I must have gotten confused.”

Morgause rolled her eyes.

“Can we not talk about babies or anything wedding-related anymore?” she said. “I’ll get a rash.”

“Aw, come on,” said Morgana. “You must have some ideas in mind.”

“Well, yes, we intend to recreate _The Graduate_ ’s ending. I’ll pay Gwaine to play my groom and then Mordred will appear and we’ll run away, except it’ll be in the tube instead of a bus. It’ll be a wedding and a performance,” said Morgause, her face completely serious

“Fine,” said Morgana. “See if I help you plan anything.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to see my dress. If I wear a dress...”

“What about me, though? Am I supposed to throw him a bachelor party?” said Arthur.

“Yes, Arthur, I’m sure he expects one with underage strippers,” said Morgause.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Morgause!” said Vivienne, scandalised.

“Why don’t we talk about something else?” said Arthur, tiredly.

Morgause grinned.

“I agree, Linus.”

*

“Hey, Merlin!”

“Hey.”

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“Morgause and Mordred are getting married.”

“Oh.”

“Hah, I know, it seems a bit insane, but she’s so ridiculously happy about it—even though she tries to pretend it’s no big deal— and to be honest I’m glad she’s settling down with him. He’s a nice guy. What do you think?”

“Yeah, he seems like a decent person.”

“My parents took it fairly well, too. Well, dad was a bit reluctant, but in the end I think he knows there’s nothing he can do to change Morgause’s mind.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you alright? I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to call you when you’re in the hospital, but... I wanted to let you know. Are you tired?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired, Arthur.”

“Well, if you want, I can pick you up from the hospital and drive you home. I’ll make you breakfast so you can eat something before you pass out for the rest of the morning.”

“You’re a terrible cook.”

“Well, then I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, Arthur, I’m sure.”

“Is something wrong? Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you or anything, if this is a bad time—”

“It is a bad time.”

“I’m sorry. You should’ve just told me.”

“I don’t know, Arthur, would you have listened if I tried to tell you? You seemed so engrossed talking about yourself and your family. You probably wouldn’t have noticed if I’d hung up.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. If you couldn’t talk to me you should’ve just said so.”

“I gotta go, now.”

“Merlin, what’s wrong?”

“Bye, Arthur.”

“Mer—”

*

“I don’t understand what happened,” said Merlin.

Finna looked at him, and pushed the cup of coffee towards him. She had stayed extra hours to keep him company, just because Gaius wasn’t around this time to help him deal with his woes. He felt ridiculous, immature, and incompetent, to say the least. He couldn’t even deal with the consequences of his own actions without someone to pat his back and tell him it’d be alright.

“I think you understand it perfectly. You’ve studied this for years. But either way, if you’re asking me, I don’t think there’s much to understand,” said Finna. “Shit happens. That’s it.”

Merlin sighed.

“I should’ve seen it coming. I mean, I knew she had suicidal thoughts, but I thought she was getting better. She’d found a job, she was sleeping better...” Merlin sighed. “I don’t understand. I should’ve done something, I should’ve fixed her.”

“Merlin, I know you doctors like to play god and whatnot, but... there’s only so much you can do for a person,” said Finna. “This Freya girl, I’m sure you did everything you could to help her.”

Merlin shook his head.

“No, Finna. If I had, she would be alive. She was so young, Finna, so clever... I should’ve paid more attention to her. I should’ve looked closer, read her better. But I had my head in the clouds, I didn’t listen!”

“You can’t take the blame for this. She did it to herself.”

“That’s not a very compassionate way of seeing it,” said Merlin.

Finna shrugged.

“Merlin, you do what you can for your patients, that’s true. But sooner or later this was going to happen to you. It happens to all doctors.”

Merlin let out a sigh.

“You know why I decided to become a psychiatrist?”

“No. But I’ve heard of the rescue fantasies doctors have,” said Finna, with a small smile. “Is there a mentally ill person in your family?”

Merlin smiled bitterly.

“No, no. I became a psychiatrist because I was fascinated by the human brain and mind, by our emotions, by the way we work. I guess I could’ve become an anthropologist too. I almost did, at one point, but I did like medicine a lot. I wanted to learn more. I always felt like I was sensitive enough, clever enough to read people, to understand them. I felt like I could help them, if given the right tools to do so, fix them. Fix their broken spirits...” he sighed.

“Your tea is getting cold,” said Finna.

Merlin took a sip.

“Like I said,” Finna insisted, “You did what you could. Perhaps this girl was way beyond repair. And you can’t save them all, Merlin. You better not start carrying corpses, you’ll be buried yourself under their weight before your time.”

Merlin looked at Finna.

“How long have you been working at this hospital, Finna?”

“Thirty years come next January,” said Finna.

“Aren’t you tired of it? Shouldn’t you be thinking of retiring?”

Finna smiled.

“Being idle in my house would drive me insane,” she said. “I’d rather work for as long as I’m useful.”

Merlin nodded.

“I see.”

“You’re a fine doctor, Merlin. You’re caring, and you’re clever, and I’m sure you’re good at your job. I’ve seen you in the past few years, your patients do get better, and they leave with their head high.”

“Except Freya left with her feet first,” said Merlin, bitterly.

Finna shrugged.

“Well, she’s the only one so far. If you want to ignore all the others you have been able to fix, it’s up to you.”

Merlin finished his tea in one big gulp. It was bitter and lukewarm, and it tasted awful.

“It’s time to make rounds through the ward. Thanks for the tea.”

*

When Merlin came out of the hospital at 8 a. m. the next day, Arthur was waiting for him. Merlin was exhausted and the rush of guilt and shame, mixed with his discomfort and annoyance, didn’t help improve his mood. He wasn’t exactly happy to see Arthur.

“Hey,” said Arthur.

“Hey,” said Merlin, and added, hurriedly, “Look, I’m sorry I was a twat on the phone yesterday. I apologise for that.”

“Apology accepted,” said Arthur, and smiled brightly, as if everything was alright now. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Arthur...” Merlin took a deep breath. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d very much like to be alone now.”

Arthur’s face fell, and Merlin felt guilty.

“What happened?” Arthur pried.

Merlin groaned.

“Nothing happened,” he lied. He didn’t want to talk about it with Arthur out of all people. He wasn’t even sure if he could talk about it – if it was right, ethical; if it was fair to Freya, or to himself.

“Merlin,” Arthur said and came a step closer. Under the sunlight, he looked handsome, and his patience made Merlin feel even worse. “I don’t know what happened and I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but—”

“Good,” said Merlin, nodding. “And thank you.”

He turned away, and started to walk down the street, toward the tube station.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled, and followed. “Look, I get if you’re upset, and if I made you angry, I apologise, but can we please not do this?”

Merlin stopped.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Can we not? I need some time alone. This is not your fault, Arthur. I just. I have to deal with this on my own, alright?”

“What are you talking about?” said Arthur. There was confusion and fear in his eyes and Merlin felt, once again, the pang of guilt.

“I really like you, Arthur,” said Merlin. Arthur groaned but Merlin didn’t stop talking. “It’s true. You’re amazing. And I’m a mess right now and I’d rather not barf my misery on you any time soon. I need a break.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “But I thought we’re doing fine.”

“We were,” said Merlin. “It’s not that, it’s just—” he stopped himself and looked at Arthur. Arthur seemed upset, confused, almost as if he couldn’t believe Merlin’s words. It awoke an old fear in Merlin and he had to push his words out if his throat. “I need time off. I’m sorry. I just. There’s stuff I have to deal with right now and I’d rather not drag you through it. It’s not fair to you.”

“ _This_ is what isn’t fair to me!” said Arthur. “I thought we were beyond that but you’re shutting me out, pushing me away! I care for you, Merlin, very much. You know that. You know I won’t jump off to the water if the boat starts to rock.”

“But I might,” said Merlin, and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Just a few days. I’ll call you. I promise.”

Arthur frowned.

“You can’t do this to me, you know? This isn’t...” Arthur threw his arms up in frustration, “You can’t just push me away and tell me you’ll call me later when you’re in a slump. That’s not how it works.”

Merlin frowned.

“What do you want me to say, Arthur? Is it all or nothing, then?” said Merlin.

“I don’t want you to say anything. I was just hoping you’d treat me with a little more respect. I expected better from you,” said Arthur, and turned away.

Merlin watched him as he walked further and further away, feeling the urge to call out his name and apologise. But then the memory of Freya pierced through his mind and he turned his back to Arthur to walk towards the tube station.

*

“Why did you do that?”

“Do not ask me questions, Gwen...” said Merlin, and covered his face with his hands, tired.

“Then I’ll try to figure it out on my own. Look, I know Arthur. Obviously not as well as you do, but I’ve met him, and I know he can be an arrogant prick, and annoying, and incredibly self-centred.”

Merlin separated his fingers and looked at Gwen through the slits they formed.

“He’s not that bad.”

Gwen smiled.

“See? Lancelot used to say that. Well, I mean, he knew him better than I did and he felt he was a good person. I’m sure he’s a good guy. What I don’t understand is why you’re pushing him away like this.”

“He’s just...” Merlin trailed off and let out a sigh that sounded both dreamy and tired to his own ears.

“But isn’t everyone?” said Gwen.

“You didn’t know what I was going to say,” said Merlin, pouting.

“Oh, I know. He’s a prat, he’s annoying, he’s self-absorbed, vain... but he’s also sweet, and caring, and respectable, and handsome, and he treats you right, otherwise you would’ve dumped him after the first date. He’s got his vices and his virtues. Big deal. So does everyone,” she said with a shrug. “So why did you push him away when he was trying to be caring, helpful? Are you not ready for that kind of intimacy, for that vulnerability?”

“Perhaps,” said Merlin, not wanting an uncomfortable silence to fall between them. But he didn’t know. Well, he did know. He just wasn’t ready to voice his thoughts out to Gwen. He couldn’t tell her that it wasn’t an issue of intimacy. Arthur had, after all, been inside his head, his thoughts, in a way.

“What happened, Merlin?” she asked. “In the hospital. Did one of your patients die?”

Merlin looked at her and didn’t say anything. Aithusa came into the room and jumped onto Merlin’s lap, demanding attention. Merlin petted her and she purred. It made him smile.

“Merlin?” Gwen insisted.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Gwen,” he said.

“Merlin, you can’t blame yourself if something went wrong...”

“Please, Gwen,” he said. “Let’s just not talk about it. Alright? Tell me how you’re doing instead.”

Gwen gazed at him with her piercing brown eyes for a moment and then nodded.

“I’m doing much better now...” she replied.

Merlin smiled.

“Well, that’s good news.”

“I thought about it a lot, you know? I think I understand now. Why Lancelot left...” she stopped for a moment to pet Aithusa, who turned to her and started licking Gwen’s fingers with enthusiasm. “For a long time, I thought Lancelot was all I needed. Like... he made me whole, complete; that as long as we were together, I didn’t need anyone else in my life. I took my other friends for granted. I even took you for granted, sometimes...” she added, a little shyly. “I’m not saying that I didn’t care about my career anymore, but I realised I made our relationship the centre of our lives. No wonder he felt constricted, like he couldn’t write.”

She made a pause, looked down sadly. Then Aithusa rubbed her head against her palm and that made her smile again.

“It’s the same for me. I forgot about myself. I forgot that other things were important too. We were co-dependent, and he was able to see that, I suppose. He was able to sense that we weren’t alright.”

Merlin frowned.

“You always seemed fine to me. I mean...”

“From a psychiatric point of view?” Gwen asked, with a mocking smile on her lips.

Merlin snorted.

“No, not like that but... I always thought you were alright. A normal couple. No, not a normal couple, normal couples tend to be sick. I would know. What I mean is—you were alright. You loved each other, you didn’t damage each other.”

“Yes,” said Gwen. “But I think he was able to see beyond that. Things were starting to get a little rocky. I think if we’d stayed like we were, we would’ve ended up in a bad road, seriously harming each other. He went away before that could happen. I didn’t understand it at first, but now I do.”

Merlin nodded.

“That makes sense, I guess. I still think he’s kind of an arse for leaving you like that. But I love him. He’s my friend.”

Gwen chuckled.

“I know. It’s fine, Merlin.”

“And are you really fine?”

“Yes. I am. I realised that I didn’t need him, after all. Sure, he was an amazing plus to my life. But all I need to be happy is myself.”

Merlin grinned mockingly.

“Have you been reading any of those self-help books we used to make fun of?”

Gwen slapped his shoulder but she was smiling.

“No, I’m serious. I know it sounds cliché, but one day I woke up and I understood it. And I got it now, why he left, why it was for the best, for both of us.”

“I can understand that, but isn’t it a bit extreme. I mean, don’t fix what isn’t broken,” said Merlin. “If you guys were doing alright, then why break up?”

“I told you, Merlin. Things weren’t fine. We were strained,” she said. She finally took Aithusa from Merlin’s lap and put her on her own to scratch under her chin. “And I guess ‘don’t break what’s in one piece’ should be a good advice to follow, too,” she said.

“Are you in one piece?” Merlin asked.

Gwen nodded and smiled.

“At last,” she said.

*

The weekend had been hellish. Arthur was too angry to even try to call Merlin, too disappointed. This wasn’t the kind of relationship he had signed up for. But had he even signed up for a relationship with Merlin? How? When?

He had spent half of Saturday in the gym, trying to sweat his frustration away, until one of the instructors sent him home. Then he took a nap, and woke up morose and hungry. He realised he hadn’t dreamed of Merlin in ages. Not since he’d lost his (former) engagement ring.

He couldn’t fathom what that meant. Perhaps they didn’t dream of each other anymore because they were in each other’s lives now. But what if they broke up for real? Would they go back to dreaming of each other?

Just thinking of it made him feel frustrated, vulnerable and sad, something he wanted to avoid at all cost. Instead of staying home to munch on his unhappiness, he went to play football with his friends on Sunday, and tried to direct all the attention to the soon-to-be-wedded Mordred. It worked. No one asked him about Merlin. Afterwards, he tried to call Mithian to complain about it, but (surprise!) she was too busy to talk and didn’t return his call, so he was left alone with his misery for the rest of the day.

Then Monday came, and it brought no calls or messages from Merlin. Arthur didn’t want to be the one to make a move. He was the offended party; Merlin needed to apologise. He tried not to be too nasty to George (after all, Arthur’s personal problems weren’t the poor man’s fault) but he ended up staying in the office until late, considering which manuscripts to send to which readers, hoping to find the new treasure that Lancelot du Lac had been for Caerleon Publishers before he decided to leave everything and move to Chile.

Arthur hadn’t taken home the archive box Merlin had brought him. He hadn’t even read Lancelot’s letter. He kept stalling, there was always something else to do, and he always figured he could take the five minutes to read the later some other time. Well, now Arthur had more than five minutes, considering that it was almost 9 p. m. and he didn’t want to go home yet. So he searched for the envelope among his old correspondence and soon found it.

*

“Go home, Merlin,” said Gaius.

“But I’ve still got several hours to—”

“Go home,” he said, sternly. “You’re not thinking straight and you could use a break.”

“Gaius, I’m fine, I just have to—”

“No, Merlin. Clearly, you’re not. Finna told me what happened with your patient.”

Merlin lowered his eyes, ashamed.

“It wasn’t your fault, you know?”

Merlin sighed.

“Yeah, it wasn’t.”

Gaius shook his head.

“You’ll understand that in time. Right now, you’ve been here for almost two days. Go home and get some rest. Try to get your mind off this.”

Merlin wanted to keep arguing, but he didn’t see the point. He could get what Gaius meant, he had been in the hospital since Sunday morning, and he hadn’t been of much help to patients—or at least, not as much as he would’ve liked to be.

“Thank you,” he said instead, and went to pick up his things.

Right outside the hospital, he found Dr. Kilgharrah, sitting on a bench and smoking a cigarette in the chilly autumn night.

“Those are bad for your lungs,” said Merlin.

“Who says it’s tobacco?” said Kilgharrah, smiling crookedly, and with his eyes fixated on the street lights.

“The smell,” said Merlin, rolling his eyes.

Kilgharrah shrugged.

“I need my nicotine fix, Merlin. Surely you won’t deny an old man one of the very few pleasures life offers him.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. Your life is fine,” said Merlin.

Kilgharrah turned to him.

“So is yours,” he said.

Merlin shrugged.

“I guess so.”

“You’re not wearing that ring anymore...”

“How do you know I was wea—”

“Oh, a bird told me. Also, I saw you. At first I thought it was something out of _Narnia_ , but—”

“It’s _The Lord of the Rings_ , not _Narnia_!” said Merlin, aghast.

“Same thing, really. Both written by deeply Christian men with latent homosexual tendencies. Or so they say.”

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“Since when do you focus your analysis on literature?”

“Since never,” said Kilgharrah. “I was simply repeating what I heard in the last conference I attended. It was a terrible presentation.”

Merlin sighed. Why did he even bother talking to this man?

“I’m going home,” he announced.

“Wait until I finish my cigarette,” Kilgharrah said as he lit another one.

Merlin couldn’t deny him. Instead, he decided to do the talking, and sat next to his old mentor.

“One of my patients committed suicide last week. I didn’t find out until the day I was supposed to see them, because the secretary called to confirm the appointment and their family told her.”

“Oh,” said Kilgharrah. “Well, that’s terrible. You probably feel twice as awful as you look.”

Merlin glared at him.

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

Kilgharrah grinned, with the cigarette hanging between his yellowish teeth.

“You are a good and kind doctor. I’m sure you did all you could. This is not your fault.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“Exactly. But it doesn’t make the guilt go away now, does it?” said Kilgharrah.

Merlin shook his head.

“I can’t help thinking... The guy, the owner of the ring. I found him.”

“Well, well...” said Kilgharrah, raising his eyebrows.

“And we started seeing each other. And I think my head was in the clouds, and I wasn’t able to focus.”

Kilgharrah chuckled.

“Well, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard you say. I know you, and I know the way you work. If your head was in the clouds, if you were happy, your therapy was probably better for it.”

“How could it be so! One of my patients killed herself! She used the medicine I had prescribed, that I had given her to heal, she used it all to harm herself, to die. What help was I to her! I only provided her with means to kill herself!”

Kilgharrah looked at him, his face impassive.

“That was her responsibility. You can give a knife to a person to chop some mango and finally feed themselves, and they’ll use it to slice their wrists.”

“That’s something like Finna said... Except, in a less weird way,” said Merlin, frowning.

“You weren’t the only person around the patient. What she did... well, nothing you can do can change it. But ultimately, it was her decision, not yours. It wasn’t up to you. It was her life,” Kilgharrah said.

Merlin sighed.

“How do I get rid of it? The guilt, the remorse, the feeling that I should’ve done more, that I could’ve done more...”

“It’s the same dilemma surgeons and other doctors face every single day of their lives,” said Kilgharrah, with a shrug.

“Yes, but a surgeon can at least be sure he tried everything he could, everything that was humanly possible.”

“And didn’t you? You did so, too, Merlin. You always do everything with passion and determination. You’re terribly stubborn, so much that you wore a ring around your neck to find the man in your dreams until you actually did.”

Merlin let out another sigh.

“And I screwed that up, too,” he said, and ran a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

Kilgharrah nodded.

“I see. Did you read the book I lent you?”

Merlin shook his head.

“Well, I want it back tomorrow, then. I was supposed to lend it to Mordred.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You know, Mordred is special in his own way. The things he wants to study are just like your dreams.”

“Dreams are just dreams,” said Merlin, with a sigh.

“You know better than that.”

“No, I don’t. Maybe I just... It doesn’t make sense and I can’t explain it.”

“Well, luckily, other people might be able to, in the future. For centuries, people couldn’t explain where rain came from. Now we know.”

Merlin sighed.

“And in the end, rain too, is just something that happens. Like your dreams. Or your patient’s life or death. Or your relationship.”

Merlin stared at him. His cigarette had consumed almost entirely between his fingers, a small tube of ashes crumbling slowly to the ground.

“Luckily for you, you have the ability to choose how you react to it. You can be miserable under the rain without an umbrella or think of the dam filling up with water. And if the dam fills too much and it overflows and the floods kill a hundred people... well, that’s also something that happens.”

Merlin wasn’t even sure what Kilgharrah was talking about anymore, but that was always the case when you went for advice to him. And that’s what Merlin had done, even if he hadn’t meant to. Well, perhaps he had. He let out a sigh. The wind was cold tonight, and the smell of tobacco was making Merlin dizzy.

“I’m going home now.”

Kilgharrah nodded.

“You do that.”

*

_Dear Arthur,_

_By the time you get this letter, I’ll probably be in Chile. We had our meeting a couple of days ago, and although I believe we said everything we had to say and we agreed to everything we had to agree to, there are some things, of a more personal note, that I wish to say to you without agents, lawyers, or personal assistants among us._

_And because, as you’re aware, I don’t express myself very well when I speak, and I do it much better when I write, I chose to be old-fashioned (romantic and vetust, you’d say), and write you a letter._

_First and foremost, Arthur, though our relationship has been mostly professional, I want you to know that I do consider you a friend. I wouldn’t want you to think that my moving to Chile is a whim, a caprice, an excuse not to finish my manuscript on time. I hope you understand that I’m genuinely troubled, and that I go to my mother’s land to search for answers._

_It’s not just my need to reconnect—or perhaps connect for the first time—with my Latin American roots. I’m also driven by a need to find myself, a journey away from this country, away from the woman I’ve loved so much and yet I fear I won’t be able to love any more if things stay the way they are; away from the monster of my ego that threatens to eat me alive, because as long as I sell books, what does it matter if what I’m doing is worthy of the trees they’re printed on? As long as other people say they are..._

_I know you’ll understand, Arthur. I am aware that my acts are selfish and very inconvenient to you. I apologise for that. But I hope to make it up to you. I won’t bring you back a best-seller, I’ll bring you back a pearl. It’s a bold promise to make, but I’ll do it. I want to feel worthy of the praise that you print in the back cover of every new edition of my novel._

_With luck, I’ll have fulfilled this promise when we meet again. In the meantime, know that I wish you all that is good in this world (including, of course, the best of lucks in your marriage to Leon)._

_Your friend,_

_Lancelot du Lac._

*

When Arthur got to his flat, he found Merlin sitting on the hallway floor, next to the door. He looked up as soon as Arthur appeared upstairs and quickly stood up.

“Hey,” he said. He looked tired and embarrassed, but Arthur was still too angry to care.

“I read Lancelot’s letter,” said Arthur. He didn’t go to open the door. Instead, he stood still and awkward, a couple of feet away from Merlin.

“Oh,” said Merlin. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“He wishes me luck in my marriage to Leon,” said Arthur, and smirked.

Merlin licked his lips, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable.

“And also, he attempted to explain why he left and all that...”

Merlin nodded.

“He’s very concerned about us knowing why he left, it seems.”

“Well, to be honest, I’m a little disappointed. I never thought he’d leave because he felt insecure,” Arthur shook his head.

“Is that what you got out of it?” asked Merlin.

Arthur shrugged.

“He’s way too worried about what other people think of him. I don’t blame him. We all are. And we make the weirdest decisions based on our worries and fears...” he trailed off.

Silence. Merlin looked at him, abashed.

“I’m sorry,” said Merlin. “I was a douchebag.”

“Yeah, you were,” said Arthur, with a sigh.

“Can we talk about it? Something did happen...” said Merlin.

He looked exhausted, miserable and awkward. Arthur wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but here was Merlin, fumbling with the cords of his hoodie, attempting to apologise.

“Fine,” Arthur said, and moved to open the door.

They entered the flat and Arthur left his briefcase on the coffee table. He’d been able to buy a couple of slim bookcases, that now hosted a part of his library. The rest of it was still in boxes, but the place looked neater than when he had first moved in. He had pictures of his family and his travels on the mantelpiece, and the place was a pristine as it could be, in spite its frugality. He gestured for Merlin to sit on the couch, and he sat next to him.

Before Arthur could encourage him to speak, Merlin opened his mouth.

“One of my patients committed suicide,” he said.

“Oh,” said Arthur. Well, that was definitely something to be shocked about, but still, he couldn’t understand all of Merlin’s behaviour. He couldn’t just stay quiet, though, so he said, “I’m so sorry...”

Merlin shook his head.

“No, no. Look, the news hit me pretty bad. I witnessed all sort of bad stuff in the years I’ve been in the hospital. I know these things happen and that you just have to soldier on. But at that moment, all I could think...” Merlin trailed off, looked away as if embarrassed. “I felt like I hadn’t been paying enough attention to my patients, that I was a terrible doctor, making the worst possible decisions that eventually guided this person not to a healthy life but to death. And it’s horrible, Arthur. It’s not the same as not being able to save a cancer patient or making a mistake in the operation room—my actions didn’t have the power to dissuade this person from taking their own life.”

Arthur blinked.

“Merlin, it wasn’t up to you...” he muttered, confused.

“I felt an immense amount of guilt at that moment, when I heard the news,” said Merlin. “I couldn’t help but think of everything I could’ve done. But the truth is, I did everything I could, and it was not enough. That was difficult to face. So I did the first thing I could think of to punish myself—I pushed you away.”

“Well, it wasn’t only yourself that you were punishing, you know,” said Arthur, frowning.

Merlin looked at him, and smiled sadly.

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve dealt with all that better, but I was upset, and I hadn’t slept in forever, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry. I know I was a douchebag, and I know that I didn’t treat you like you deserve. And if you want to stop seeing me after this, I understand it. But I really, really hope you don’t.”

Arthur looked at him for a moment, and nodded.

“Merlin, this can’t happen again. I mean, you can’t just shut me out whenever you feel you’ve done something wrong. And you can’t keep treating yourself like that. And...” he sighed. “Oh god, come here,” he said, grabbing Merlin’s face, and he pulled him closer for a kiss.

“I’ll try,” Merlin whispered to his lips. “I’ll try with all my might.”

Arthur smiled.

“Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

Merlin lowered his eyes, and looked dubious about something.

“Is there something else, Merlin?” Arthur asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Do you remember the dreams? I mean. At least, I used to dream about you all the time. Well, not all the time, but often, and then, the dreams stopped when I woke up with your ring.”

Arthur nodded.

“I remember.”

“Because... I keep trying to explain it, and I don’t know what the hell is going on there,” he said.

Arthur chuckled.

“Well... I have no idea either. Maybe one day. Do some research like Mordred’s.”

“What does Mordred have to do with this?”

“Don’t you know? I thought you guys were hospital pals or something.”

“Not at all. We don’t even see each other in there. We’ve met only once, in Dr. Kilgharrah’s office.”

“Really?” Arthur frowned. “You should hang out with him more, he’s nice.”

“Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“His research is focused on weird mind phenomena,” said Arthur. “Telekinesis, mind reading, empathy, that kind of thing...”

Merlin looked aghast.

“You are kidding me, right?”

“No. He’s pretty serious about it.”

“But that’s—that’s...”

“Bullshit?” said Arthur. “I’d say so if I hadn’t been in touch with you for years before I even knew your name.”

Merlin frowned.

“I still think that’s a bit difficult to explain. Unless you’re on drugs.”

Arthur chuckled.

“I don’t know about that. Mordred and Morgause are getting handfasted too...”

“Really?” said Merlin. “But who does that anymore?”

“Them, apparently. And their hippie friends... I suppose,” said Arthur, with a smirk. “But she believes in all sorts of thing... like magic, or supernatural things.”

Merlin’s eyes widened.

“Really? Magic?”

Arthur shrugged.

“As long as she doesn’t do something crazy like sacrificing babies to the Triple Goddess or jump off a cliff thinking she can fly, I don’t mind,” he said. That little detail of Morgause moving things with her mind was not really his secret to tell, so he kept quiet about it.

Merlin smiled.

“You know, those are very old prejudices. The Old Religion wasn’t like that. I mean, sure, there were some people who were a little batshit about it centuries ago, but we can’t really tell because all the records left were written by the catholic priests who tried to massively convert people, so we can’t really tell—”

“I know about that, Merlin,” said Arthur. “I was just joking. But I didn’t know you’d be a defender of The Old Religion.”

Merlin smiled.

“I’m not. But Ealdor is a very old, very small little town. You’d be surprised of how many people could agree with Morgause if she went there to have a talk with the locals.”

“I’ll make sure to suggest it to her as a honeymoon destination,” said Arthur. “Now, enough talk about Morgause...”

Merlin leaned forward, and kissed Arthur again, lips chapped and determined, his hand resting gently on his chest.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, pulling away slightly. “Merlin, after all the years that we dreamt of each other...”

“Yes?” asked Merlin.

“Am I better in person?”

Merlin smiled.

“You’re much more of a dollophead,” he said. “But I like you a lot more when I’m awake.”

*

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur. “I didn’t mean to ambush you or anything, but…” he trailed off. “I was just nearby and I thought I could come over and see if you were still at the office, and… I didn’t think of calling beforehand.”

Leon looked at him with uncertainty, and rested his briefcase the car top.

“Hello, Arthur,” he said.

“Hello,” Arthur replied, and smiled out of politeness. Or so he wanted to think. He was uncomfortable. He hadn’t seen Leon in what felt like ages.

“What is this about?” Leon asked. He seemed impatient. Arthur couldn’t blame him. If Leon had appeared out of nowhere in the parking lot of his office after a long day of work to meet him randomly, Arthur wouldn’t have reacted as calmly. Not after everything that had happened.

“Look, I found the ring,” he said, and took his former engagement ring out of his pocket, and extended his hand towards Leon to take it. “I thought I should return it to you.”

Leon hesitated for a moment, and then grabbed it, frowning.

“Where was it?”

“Someone found it,” Arthur said. “And returned it to me.”

Leon looked at him, his face difficult to read. Arthur thought he could see the dozens of thoughts flashing through his head, and he wanted nothing but to stop it.

“Look,” said Arthur. “I’m not trying to—this doesn’t mean I want to change anything. I just wanted to give you the ring because… It doesn’t feel right keeping it.”

Leon nodded.

“Thank you... I guess,” he said.

Arthur smiled.

“I hope you’re doing alright,” he said.

Leon nodded, and returned the gesture.

“Pretty good. Thanks. How about you?”

“Me, too. And I’m glad.”

“Good,” said Leon, and he started toying with his keys.

Arthur didn’t know what else to say. He fidgeted for a moment, and then added, “So, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Sure. See you later.”

Arthur bid him goodbye with a similar formula, out of politeness, and fully aware that neither of them was going to follow through. There was not going to be a ‘later’ for them, and Arthur was alright with it. He went home feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, finally.

*

Mordred and Morgause’s handfasting took place in an exclusive southern resort, an eco-friendly and expensive hotel in the coast, called Gerdref. The owner was Anhora, an old man who happened to be friends with Mordred, although both Merlin and Arthur found him creepy, if not a little menacing, when introduced to him upon their arrival the day before the ceremony.

“You gotta admit it’s a nice place,” said Merlin, as he looked from his seat over his shoulder, to the big garden. It even had a huge labyrinth that he’d wanted to explore, but Arthur had refused to go before the ceremony. He was even more nervous than Morgause and Mordred appeared to be.

“Yeah,” Arthur responded. “But I don’t get it. She teased me about this! Why! The arch with the wisterias, the wedding by the sea!”

“I think she’s doing it ironically or something,” said Merlin.

Arthur shook his head.

“My sister is insane, and she’s going to drive poor Mordred into the pit of her madness...”

“Shut up, Arthur,” said Morgana, who was sitting next to him. “It’s about to begin.”

Many of the guests haven’t attended a handfasting ceremony before, and most of them were holding their mobile phones up with the hopes of capturing the moment. The priestess (Nimueh, an old friend of Morgause’s) who was officiating seem a bit creepy to Merlin, and he thought a red dress was highly inappropriate for this, but somehow it made a nice contrast with Mordred and Morgause’s white cotton clothes.

The whole thing made Merlin think of Will and his frustrated wedding. Though Will probably would’ve made something smaller, certainly cheaper, and indoors. When Merlin had seen him during the winter holidays, Will was alright. He had moved on and most of his energy was focused on interrogating Arthur like a protective older brother, which was both embarrassing and endearing. Merlin smiled as he remembered that Christmas, when Merlin’s parents stopped giving a damn if he shared his bedroom with his boyfriend, when Hunith had fawned over Arthur, and Balinor had stopped regarding him with suspicion and, instead, had told Merlin that he was convinced that Arthur was “the best one yet.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” muttered Arthur, pointing towards the sea and the red sun hanging low above the waves. His voice brought Merlin back from his memories.

The ceremony lasted as long as the sunset, and Arthur thought it a nice touch, as the stars started to appear in the horizon, the sun nothing but a thin tangerine and purple line over the sea. He squeezed Merlin’s hand, and soon Morgause and Mordred walked together, holding hands (and wearing rings, which, Arthur guessed, Uther would appreciate), all smiles and waves over the dim light of torches, moving towards the area where the dinner was supposed to be held.

“Well, that was lovely,” Morgana said. “She did use the red silk I brought her from India for the handfasting...”

At that moment, Nimueh, the priestess, walked next to them and threw a dark look on Merlin’s way. He smiled, uncomfortable, and elbowed Arthur. “Shouldn’t we be hugging the happy couple or something?”

“Oh, they’ve got plenty of arms now,” said Morgana, pointing at where ‘the happy couple’ had disappeared, in the middle of a crowd.

“Arthur!” a female voice exclaimed somewhere behind them, and Merlin turned to find a woman rushing towards them, who threw her arms around Arthur and hugged him tight.

“Mithian!” he said, elated. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

“Well, I was supposed to be in France, but then I said, what the fuck, I’ve never seen a handfasting ceremony before, and I don’t think I’d ever get the chance again...” she said, and giggled.

She turned to Merlin, and blurted out, “I’m guessing you’re Merlin.”

“Yes,” said Merlin, “And it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Aw,” she said, and hugged him too, “Likewise. Arthur talks about you all the time. When he remembers to call, that is,” she said, glaring at him.

“Well, maybe if you hadn’t moved to France...” said Arthur.

“Oh, come on!” said Merlin. “She’s like half an hour away, my best friend moved to the other side of the world!”

Mithian smiled at Merlin.

“Would your best friend happen to be Lancelot du Lac? ‘Cause Arthur didn’t stop complaining about it when he left... And, well, basically not until he submitted his manuscript.”

Arthur glared.

“Are you ganging up on me?”

“It seems so,” said Morgana. “And I find it unfair. I demand to take part of it.”

Mithian gave her a hug.

“I missed you, Morgana,” she said.

“Me too,” she said.

The crowd had dissipated, most of them moving towards the dining area, while Mordred and Morgause took pictures with everyone who was left. Uther and Vivienne hadn’t moved from their side, apparently, since the ceremony had ended, and Mordred’s parents were there too, though at a more reasonable distance. After several minutes, everyone, including the photographer, moved away, and they were alone.

Merlin looked at them, wondering exactly how they had come to this point. They were glowing with joy, and it was contagious.

“We really should go hug them now,” said Morgana.

“Yeah,” said Arthur. “You go ahead. We’ll be with you in a minute.”

As Morgana and Mithian approached the couple, Merlin turned to Arthur, who was grinning like an idiot. Clearly, he was happy about his sister.

“They’re an unlikely couple, aren’t they?” said Merlin. “But they’re good for each other.”

Morgause hugged Morgana and neither of them let go for what appeared to Merlin like a whole minute. Mithian and Mordred made what seemed from afar like a polite but meaningless conversation in the meantime.

“Why don’t we join them already?” Merlin asked, a bit confused, once Morgana and Mithian had moved on towards the party, leaving Mordred and Morgause alone again.

“I just want to be alone with you for a little longer,” said Arthur, but he was looking at his sister and brother-in-law. Mordred embraced Morgause and kissed her like no one was watching.

Merlin chuckled.

“Really? Come on, let’s get moving. We’ll have plenty of time to be alone later.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hand, and pressed his lips softly to his knuckles.

“Yeah. We do,” said Arthur, and started walking, holding on to Merlin’s hand.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "This is Something That Happens" by orchis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/946302) by [blissbubbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blissbubbles/pseuds/blissbubbles)




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